


Devil's Land

by ministryofsillywalks



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Gen, Middle Earth, first wizarding war
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2017-12-23 13:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 36,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/927157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ministryofsillywalks/pseuds/ministryofsillywalks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Death Eaters invade Middle Earth in search of the Resurrection Stone, more commonly known around those parts as the Arkenstone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings! This fic is a collaboration between Alina (me) and Chloe. I write for Freya, Chloe writes for Celia. This is our first attempt at writing a fic together so please bear with us as we work out all the kinks.
> 
> Disclaimer: We do not own any Harry Potter or Hobbit characters. Only Freya and Celia are OCs. For the Death Eaters whose first names are never mentioned in canon, I used the names given to them in the HP RP I'm in, seeing as they are quite lovely names and I'm used to them. Credit goes to the admins for those names.
> 
> To see the map these brilliant Death Eaters have in their possession, Google "map of Middle Earth" and it's the first one. We do not own it, nor do we take credit for creating it. (Google images is such a useful tool.)
> 
> Read, review, enjoy!

**CELIA**

The whole forest shakes when we land as if it’s shuddering at our sudden presence. We all knew apparating this far from our land would take its toll, and the fresh bruises now blackening and scrapes now bleeding were proof. I slowly sit up and grip the back of my pounding head. 

“Is this it?” Theodore Nott, who seems to be the only one not groaning in pain, begins ruffling through his bag. I hear a faint muttering and turn to my left. Gavin Travers is kneeling down over our eldest member, Rowan Wilkes, mending his splinched leg. 

“Found it!” Theodore proudly announces as he waves a folded map over his head. He opens it up and tilts his head with a puzzled expression. I manage to find enough strength to stand and just as I begin to find my balance I take in my surroundings and instantly feel like sitting back down. Wandering roots cover the cold ground making it almost impossible to walk. Moss and colors I’ve never seen before hug the large tree trunks that are so tall they seem to disappear into the sky. However, the leaves on the branches are so thick that I can’t even see the sky, which puts this forest in a forever eerie state. Getting lost seems as easy as breathing in this place, so when I look over at Theodore, who’s still trying to make sense of the map, I walk over to him and snatch it from his pale hands.

“Celia, I was just about to figure it out!” 

I glance at the map for ten seconds before folding it up and putting it in my pocket. “I’ll hang onto this from now on.” He knows he lost this round so he doesn’t protest. I take another look at the dense, thick forest that surrounds us. We made it to Middle Earth.

“Aghh!” Rowan shrieks as his bone is set back in place. Gavin tries to hold him down as he waves his wand over the wound to heal it. 

“Let’s see, that’s one…” I look around at my injured comrades and do a head count. “Four, five, six…Where’s Freya?” Everyone starts looking around. “Where’s my sister?” I frantically shout in all directions. “Freya!” 

The others look worried, which only makes me more anxious. I want to run and look for her, but the fear of isolation in this place keeps me close to the others.

“Freya!” 

“Maybe she went—“

“Shut up! Be quiet and listen.” We are all silent. Even Rowan stops his moaning. I didn’t notice before, but the forest seems to have a constant hum. It’s very unsettling. Suddenly, something rustles in the bushes. They’re so thick that I can’t see any movement. I take out my black wand and point it at the source of the sound. The others point their wands as well. We stand there. Silent. The forest’s hum now painfully loud. The brush rustles again. I’m so scared I can’t think of what spell I could possibly use on whatever’s out there. This world is new to me, to all of us. The unknown terrifies me. A figure emerges and I exhale with relief. 

“Freya!” I run to my sister and hug her. 

“We made it,” she breathes, our foreheads touching. “The Dark Lord will be pleased.”

“He will not be pleased until we return with the Stone,” Theodore states. Freya breaks our embrace and slowly walks over to him. 

“Nor will he be pleased to know all six of you were clutching your wands at the first sign of trouble. Wands are to be our last resort, you idiots. We are now dwarves. We look like dwarves, we ought to fight like dwarves. Perhaps one of you can answer this for me.” Freya stands there, one hand on her hip and a finger tapping her chin. “Do dwarves have wands?” No answer. “Hmm? Yes? No?” Knowing she won’t stop until she gets her way, Theodore reluctantly answers.

“No, Freya.”

Freya turns to him with great speed. “That’s right! The answer is no.” She grabs Theodore’s wand out of his hand and waves it in the air for all to see. “Last resort.” She throws it. “You should get that,” she says to Theodore. 

“Alright, lads…and lasses,” Rowan says, trying to change the subject before a fight breaks out. “Let’s get our things and move out. We have work to do.”

Freya smirks and waltzes over to me. “Keep it in your boot.” She shoves her wand in hers. “Easy access.” She playfully kicks the side of my boot.

“Do we have a map?” Walden MacNair asks. I can feel Theodore’s glare, which makes me laugh. My interaction with him was that of a brother and sister. I teased him and could care less what he thought of me. When I first met him, I questioned his ability to be a Death Eater. He seemed so innocent. And then I saw him in action one night. I watched him kill a mother and child without hesitation. After that, I toned down the teasing and joking. That was the first time I realized these people are vicious killers, followers of the most evil being in our world. I don’t want to be friends with any of them. I don’t like what these people are capable of. I joined because of my sister. I could not leave her alone with these people, these monsters. I love Freya. We’re family, we’re blood. But she does have an evil inside her that I don’t understand. I look down at my wrist and since we’re under a spell that makes us look like dwarves, my mark is not visible, and I smile.

“Well?” Walden impatiently asks. I take out the map. I have no idea where we are. 

“Uhh, well…” I nervously say, scared that these people will turn on me. _Think of something, Celia. Quick._

Freya sees me struggling and takes a look at the map. “If we walk straight, eventually we’ll make it out of the forest.”

Our group doesn’t seem convinced, but unlike me, Freya does not fear them.

“So let’s go this way,” she points straight ahead, hands me the map, and starts walking. Everyone throws their packs over their shoulders and follows her. 

I hear a noise behind me and see a small grey hedgehog appear from behind a tree.

“Aww.” I go over to pet it but I’m interrupted by a sudden green flash. I turn and see Evan putting his wand away. The Killing Curse is a favorite of his. He turns and walks away. I don’t allow myself to cry. I’ll look weak, but I can’t bring myself to look at the dead animal because that’ll make me lose it. Innocence lost.

I swing my heavy pack over my shoulder and run after them. Intimidating as they may be, they’re my only company in this wood. I don’t know which is more terrifying.

 

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**FREYA**

Middle Earth. Desolate and vast. According to the maps, at least. But from the looks of it, we’ve arrived at the center of the densest forest in existence. The colors alone are enough to send my head spinning, and the numerous branches and vines erupting from this tree and that brush are the forest’s arsenal, natural weaponry to guard itself against invaders. I almost don’t move. I’m afraid a single step in the wrong direction will kill me, or at least leave me with a crippling injury. This is no ordinary forest. It’s a jungle, a living, breathing jungle, fully aware of the parasites that just landed in its heart. But to keep completely still would defeat the purpose of our coming here. The Dark Lord wants the Resurrection Stone, and the Resurrection Stone is here. Somewhere…

There are seven of us trekking tentatively and very very slowly through this hell. Celia, my sister, lags behind. There are five men between us. Five killers. Some of the Dark Lord’s most loyal followers. I don’t like having my back to them. Not that I don’t trust them, but you can never be too cautious of your surroundings. I suppose that’s what makes me pick up my pace at the front of the group. I have to lift my feet pretty high to get over some of the obstacles the jungle decides to throw in front of me. The boots help a bit. Thick boots up to my knees, lined with fur and laced all the way up. Typical dwarf attire, apparently. Blending in is supposed to work to our advantage, so we’ve all been resized. I haven’t been four and a half feet tall since I was seven years old. I must be the shortest twenty-year-old in London. But alas, we’re not in London anymore. My hair’s grown at least a foot. The men all sport lovely locks that fall past their shoulders as well. A few have grown lengthy beards, some are even braided. I’d say we look very much like dwarves.

“Slow down!” one of the other Death Eaters, Evan Rosier, shouts from about twenty feet behind me. I stop and turn around. 

“Keep up!” I shout back as I yank my coat free from a thorny branch. That’s the one downside to blending in. These bloody coats. Damn dwarves have to dress like it’s below freezing. I turn back around and continue on my path towards the least dense trees I can see. My sword weighs me down as it drags through the bushes beside me. My wand is safely tucked away in my right boot, a last resort only. If we come across danger, we are to fight like dwarves, not like Death Eaters. Drawing attention to ourselves is not ideal, at least for the time being. 

“Freya!” Gavin yells from somewhere in the trees. I can’t see him.

“What?” I answer, and decide that walking backwards to speak to him is not the best idea, given our current environment. So I stop for a short rest. I might as well let the rest of them catch up.

“Where the bloody hell are you?” Gavin sounds frustrated. And with good reason. As he finally emerges from the trees, I can see his coat is covered in burrs and leaves and heaven knows what else. “You mind slowing down a bit, Stonehill?” he asks as he starts to pick the foliage out of his clothes. “Not all of us are accustomed to leisurely strolls through the woods.”

“I’m just trying to get us out of here, Travers,” I answer blankly. “The slower we walk, the longer it’ll take.” I look around as the rest of the men catch up. But someone’s missing. “Where’s Celia?” I ask. 

They look around, scanning the trees for any sign of our seventh member. After a few moments, she appears between two trees, not exactly out of breath, but not happy either. 

“Do you all need a break or something?” I ask with a twinge of impatience in my tone. 

“We’re not used to walking long distances,” Gavin protests.

“Well, we can’t apparate here, and broomsticks are not an option either, so we’re left with walking, unfortunately,” I explain. We’ve really been reduced to muggles, if you look at it. No magic unless we absolutely need to use it. No wands, no potions. This is a highly sensitive and secretive mission and we are not to stray from our plans one bit, lest the Dark Lord find out.

“Do you even have any idea where we’re going?” Celia asks. 

“How could I possibly know, Celia?”

“Here.” She pulls the map from her pocket and holds it out to me.

“How is that going to be of any use if we have no idea where we are?” I ask impatiently. I don’t mean to snap at my sister, but I’m really not too fond of being lost, much less admitting to it.

“Just look at it and figure something out,” she pleads. Celia’s always been very trusting of me. Why shouldn’t she be? I’m her big sister, even if it’s only by a year. I’ve always been able to get us out of messes, so why should this be any different? I take the map from her outstretched hand and unfold it slowly. 

The map of The Realm of Middle Earth is covered in strange names, countless roads, and the longest mountain range I’ve ever seen, measuring out to about 1,400 miles long. Just to the east of the main stretch of those mountains, called the Misty Mountains, is a huge forest, Mirkwood.

“Okay,” I begin as I plot our escape. “I’m assuming we’ve landed here in Mirkwood Forest.” I point to it on the map. “If we were in any of these other little woods, we’d have made it out by now. Up here,” I point to a spot in the northern half of Mirkwood, “is what looks like our way out. Old Forest Road. It cuts right through it. Only problem is we don’t know if we’re north or south of that road. We’d know for sure if we could see these mountains,” I point to the tiny mountain range just north of Old Forest Road surrounded by the trees of Mirkwood, “but all these damn trees are in the way. If we can find a good tree for one of us to climb we might get a better vantage point.”

I look up at the rest of the group. Half of them seem to be considering the idea, the other half just stand there with vacant expressions. Celia’s still looking down at the map, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“Any other ideas?” I ask her.

“No,” she says, still lost in thought. “I’m just trying to figure out which of these places is most likely to have the Stone.”

“There’s no way we could ever guess that,” Theodore chimes in. “We have to get out of this forest first, then maybe we can start asking around.”

“He’s right,” I say. “For all we know it could be in the middle of nowhere. Right now we need to find a tree that’s not covered in thorns or completely branchless at the bottom.”

“And then what?” Evan snaps. “In case you’ve forgotten, we were sent here without any plans except to find the Stone and bring it back to Voldemort. We have no plan of action.”

“That’s what we’re trying to do, Rosier,” Celia responds. “Have a little patience, will you?”

“You have no idea, do you?” Evan won’t shut up. The skinny little shit always gets on my nerves with his quick temper.

“Enough, Evan!” I bark. “Don’t forget, you’re not the only one lost. If I hear one more complaint out of you—“

“What, you’ll hex me? I thought we weren’t allowed to use our wands here, oh fearless leader.”

Rowan seems to have had enough of Evan’s whining as well, judging by the fact that the tip of his wand somehow found its way to the underside of Evan’s chin. He’s taller than Evan, but only by a few inches. Still, his booming presence, silent though it is, shuts him right up.

“Show the lady some respect,” Rowan warns him. “The Dark Lord put her in charge for a reason.”

Evan has no smart remark or witty comeback. He knows Rowan’s ruthlessness. We’ve all seen it in action back in England. The man certainly has a way with his wand, magic or no magic. He lowers it from Evan’s chin and tucks it back into his boot.

“I think we’ve found our tree climber, Freya,” he announces with a victorious smirk. “A tiny frame like his could shoot up to the highest branch in a heartbeat.”

“I agree, Mr. Wilkes,” I reply. My eyes go to Evan, who now seems to be seething in his own anger but has the brain enough to keep his mouth shut for a while. 

“Right, then. Shall we?” Rowan offers, leading the way back into the brush.

 

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**CELIA**

“Five hours. Yep, that seems about right,” Theodore guesses. 

“No way, we’ve definitely passed the five hour mark. I’m gonna say seven.” 

However long we have been walking, it feels like it’s been an eternity, and these dumbasses playing their guessing game seem to be slowing down time. 

“Ugh, shut up,” Freya commands. She must feel the same way. There isn’t a way to tell what time of day it is in this forest. It’s either an eerie grey atmosphere, or pitch black. It’s pitch black right now. We took this as a last resort and decided to use our wands as a light source, but we keep them very dim. So dim, I can barely see anyone else’s wand. Freya, wanting to do everything right to please Voldemort, doesn’t let us for one moment forget the importance of keeping our wands a secret.

“If anyone finds out about our magic or our world, they could try to follow us back. And that could be very dangerous. We must blend in here as we do with the muggles,” she says. It doesn’t seem like I can be myself anywhere.

It’s hard enough navigating when I can see, but now, with the muted glow of our wands, it’s almost impossible. I constantly have to point it to the ground to make sure there isn’t an upcoming root waiting to trip me, then quickly point it back up to make sure I’m not about to smack my head on a branch. 

“We should stop soon,” Rabastan Lestrange says as coolly as he can, trying not to sound like he’s whining. He’s the youngest in our group, still in his seventh year at Hogwarts. I haven’t seen him in action, but for the Dark Lord to request his presence on this journey he must be a talented wizard.

“Yeah,” Rowan agrees. “It’ll be easier to navigate during the day. It’s not smart to walk in these woods in the darkness.”

Freya, still ahead of everyone, turns to face us, her wand illuminating her tired face. “This was not meant to be an easy task. We were each selected because we are the best. And right now, you don’t sound like the best, you sound pathetic.” She turns to start walking again, but her ankle hits a root and she falls to the ground. I immediately start laughing, and at the first bit of entertainment since our journey began, the men take advantage of the situation and join in. Freya gets up, fuming. “Let’s go.” She turns around, cautiously this time, and yelps as soon as she does. Instinctively, we all point our wands, then quickly lower them at the sight of the stranger.

“Oh, I’m awfully sorry,” says a kind voice. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” Fortunately in the darkness he didn’t seem to notice our wands. 

“That’s quite alright,” Freya answers.

“Oh, hello,” the kind voice says again, noticing the rest of us. I walk closer to get a good look at him. He’s dressed like us, big clunky boots, fur coat, animal skins hanging from his pockets. I think he’s a dwarf. 

“I’m Ori.” He places a clenched fist over his heart and bows. I take this as a dwarven greeting and do the same.

“Celia.” I bow.

“Oh, what a beautiful name!” 

I hear some of the guys snicker and I kick whoever’s behind me. They take the hint. We need to not draw attention to ourselves.

“What brings you to these parts?” he asks innocently. We are all silent. Why didn’t we come up with a story in case this was to happen? I try to remember places on the map to quickly make something up. 

“We came from, uhh, Riverdell.”

“Rivendell?” he asks.

“Yes! Oh, yes, Rivendell. Sorry, I’m very tired.” I let out a nervous chuckle. “And we, uh, just decided to take the scenic route home.”

Ori stares at me with wide eyes and an open mouthed smile, believing every word I say. I almost feel bad for lying to him.

“Well, my company and I are camped out just a quarter mile that way, and we’ve just made dinner. I’m sure there’s enough for all of you, if you’d like to join us. Maybe even sing some songs from home.”

Theodore and Rabastan crack up. “That would lovely,” Freya says, almost yelling in hopes that the two will shut up.

“Right this way.” Delighted, Ori leads us in the direction of their camp. Curious, I walk closer to him. He smells good, like something sweet. Maybe strawberries? 

“Ori, what are you doing so far from your campsite? It’s so dark.”

“I enjoy walks at night. I like being on my own sometimes,” he answers honestly. Even having just met him, I can’t see him ever lying.

“I’m not singing any songs,” I hear Rabastan quietly say to whoever’s listening, but not loud enough for Ori to hear. Even a cold blooded Death Eater wouldn’t want to hurt Ori’s feelings. We march alongside each other with a sudden excitement because we know we’re on our way to a well-deserved meal, and just in the distance I can make out the warm glow of a campfire.

 

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**FREYA**

The dwarves’ campfire warms my face. I’m sitting on one of several logs surrounding it, a bowl of stew cradled in my hands. There are thirteen of us now, seven Death Eaters, six dwarves. Such an odd group. At least to me, anyway. The other dwarves, the strangers, are completely oblivious. I’d be lying if I said a part of me, small and insignificant as it may be, doesn’t feel a tiny stab of guilt in my gut as I watch Ori handing Celia a fresh bowl of stew. There they are, kind and trusting, and here we are, murderers, kidnappers, Death Eaters. I don’t know why I feel that guilt. Well, it’s not so much guilt as it is pity and maybe a tiny bit of empathy. After all, we’re invading their land. But we’re not planning on hurting a single soul as long as they stay out of our way. As soon as someone, anyone, tries to stop us, we will retaliate. Such is our way. We take what we want and pay no mind to those who get hurt in the process. I don’t want to hurt these dwarves, and I’m almost certain Celia doesn’t either. The last time she used an Unforgivable Curse it tore her apart, even though it was only the Imperius Curse. She’s never killed anyone, and I don’t think she’s going to start anytime soon. 

“Aren’t you hungry?” The voice snaps me out of my train of distracted thought. I didn’t notice the dwarf take a seat beside me. 

“Sorry?” I shake my head to clear my mind and turn to my new companion. A pair of deep, dark eyes looks down at my untouched dinner from beneath two thick, expressive eyebrows. His long, dark hair falls beside his face. It’s a very pleasing face, if I’m completely honest. 

“Doesn’t look like you’ve eaten a bite,” he observes. He seems to be eyeing my dinner like he’s hoping I’ll offer him the rest.

“Oh… No, I haven’t,” I reply. “Not really hungry.” He’s still looking at the bowl, so I hold it up. “Do you want it?” He takes it without another thought.

“Thanks!” he sings as he digs in contentedly. I watch him shove the stew into his mouth one spoonful after the other. Then I realize all the dwarves are scarfing down their meals like they haven’t eaten in a month. 

“Hungry?” I ask, trying to keep the disgust out of my voice.

“Mhm,” he mumbles around a mouthful. “I’m Kili, by the way,” he says after he’s swallowed half of it. I shake his outstretched hand, hoping casual introductions aren’t too different in Middle Earth.

“Freya,” I say. “That’s my sister, Celia.” I indicate her across the fire.

“I hear you’re coming from Rivendell,” he says through another mouthful of food.

“Yes,” I answer. _Please don’t ask me about it_ , I think, dreading having to make up a story that may or may not be the most ridiculous thing the dwarf has ever heard, thus exposing our deception.

“Can’t imagine the elves being of much help in whatever it is you needed there.” Elves? My mind automatically pictures a town full of house elves, but the word could mean something completely different here. Regardless, judging by Kili’s tone, I assume we’re not supposed to like them. 

“What do you think?” I test, trying to sound more playful than arrogant. It earns me a laugh. I had it right. “What are you lot doing so far from home?” I ask, trying to change the focus of our conversation to anything but myself and my fellow invaders. 

I don’t hear his answer. My eye catches sight of Evan whispering something to Walden with shifty eyes. I can’t hear him, but I read his lips, which seem to be asking, do you think they know where the Stone is? Damn it, Evan. Not now. Luckily, Walden just shakes his head and gives Evan a look that says shut up, and turns his attention back to his supper. Evan glares around the circle. 

“I know they know something about the Stone,” he says again, this time loudly enough for another dwarf to hear. 

“What’s this about a stone?” the dwarf asks from across the circle. He looks concerned. Maybe they do know about the Stone. My eyes snap back to Evan just in time to see him get to his feet. The dwarf stands up, too.

“You know something about the Resurrection Stone?” Evan demands.

“Evan.” My warning falls on deaf ears.

“The bloody hell are you talking about?” the dwarf retorts.

“You know damn well what I’m talking about, dwarf,” Evan sneers. My eyes shoot left to right across the circle as they argue, praying this doesn’t escalate any further. But knowing Evan’s temper, I doubt my prayers will be answered. Kili is watching them now, too. In fact, the whole circle is. 

“Evan!” I shout at him, but again, to no avail. He reaches for his boot. My right hand clutches the handle of my sword. This boy better not ruin anything or he’ll have to deal with me.

“Where is it?” Evan screams at the dwarf, his wand now in his grasp at his side. “I know you know where it is!”

“You’re a damn fool if you think there’s any such thing as a Resurrection Stone, you scrawny bastard!” 

Those were the dwarf’s last words. The next thing I hear is Evan’s high pitched shriek of, “Avada Kedavra!” 

A flash of green light, and the blade of my sword is pressed against Evan’s throat before the dwarf’s body hits the ground. I already know he’s dead, but his comrades check him for a pulse.

“He’s dead!” one of them stammers. There’s a whoosh and suddenly there’s an arrow in Evan’s forehead. I look over my shoulder as Evan falls and see Kili standing there, bow still raised in confusion and sorrow at the sudden loss of what may very well be one of his best friends. A life for a life. That much I understand. But that doesn’t stop me from swinging my sword back towards him as the fight explodes around us. English dwarves attacking Middle Earth dwarves and vice versa. It’s chaos. Metal clanks against metal, wood, skin. Screams, shouts, pain, agony, despair. 

“No wands!” I scream at the moron with his hand halfway down his boot. I’ll be damned if I let a single spell be cast by one of us. Fortunately, I’m only distracted for a single moment as Kili’s sword flies down at me. I duck out of the way instantly, rolling on the ground and immediately back onto my feet to face down my opponent. Such a shame. He was good company. But then he killed Evan. And with such accuracy, too. He’s a skilled fighter and I am never one to decline a challenge. 

I forget about everyone else, then, as my sword swings and clangs against his. I forget about Evan. I forget about Walden and Gavin’s fresh corpses beside the fire. I forget about Celia. She can hold her own. Right now it’s just me and Kili, and I plan on winning this fight. I’m a gifted sword fighter, and so is he. I manage to back him against a tree, then he slices his sword through the air at me a few times and I’m backed against a tree. I don’t notice the fire growing dimmer or the noise dissipating as we carry our duel further into the forest. The adrenaline pumping through my veins keeps my eyes sharp, so the dark doesn’t hinder my abilities. He’s swift on his feet. My swings miss a couple times. 

“Who the hell are you?” he yells at me as we continue our fight. 

“That’s no concern of yours!” I yell back. My arm is starting to shake as the muscles burn near exhaustion. I may be good at wielding a sword, but my stamina isn’t quite up to par. 

His blade comes back at me and I duck down. It slices nearly halfway into the tree behind me. Splinters of wood rain down as he tries to yank it out.

“Wait!” I order as I straighten back up, completely out of breath. I hold my hands up in surrender, still gripping my sword.

“What could you possibly have to say?” Kili demands as he pulls his sword free, but he doesn’t come at me again.

“We seem to be at a stalemate,” I manage between deep breaths. My heart is pounding so hard in my chest I fear it’ll break right through my bones.

“That we do, lass,” he replies. He’s nowhere near as winded as I am. 

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, not wanting to admit defeat. “I really am. We should never have brought Evan along. He was too quick to anger.”

“Sorry isn’t going to bring Farin back,” he spits. “Or anyone else, for that matter.” His glare is threatening, but I can tell he doesn’t want to fight anymore either. He takes a few steps back, keeping his sword raised at me. “I’m going back to help my friends,” he says. “If I ever see you again, I will not be so merciful.” 

And just like that, he’s gone. The silence that takes his place is alarming. I can no longer hear the fight back at camp, nor are there any sounds from the trees. I’m completely alone. I take off in the direction he went. I run for what seems likes an hour, but I find no one. No dwarves, no camp, no bodies. I am completely and utterly lost this time with no hope of finding my way out except to walk until my lungs give out and my legs collapse beneath me. Any normal person would start to panic, but I just stand there staring into the trees, the darkness beginning to cloud my eyes and weigh down on my shoulders. But I will not fall victim to it. I will not give up so easily. So I slide my sword back into its sheath and start walking.

 

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**CELIA**

I feel like I’m in a dream. I’m running as fast as I can from something. I don’t know how many people are behind me or how close they are. All I know is that I need to run faster. A whirlwind of trees and color in all directions makes getting away tricky, having to jump over roots or having to change my pace to avoid trees slows me down. My wand burns in my boot. I’m desperate to grab it, but getting away is more important than trying to fight the dwarves off. And I don’t want to fight them. They were hospitable, they offered us food and a place to sleep, and we showed our thanks with murder. I hate Death Eaters. The moon is at its peak, shining so bright that it manages to illuminate random parts of the forest. As desperate as I am to run into the light, I have to stay in the darkness. I have to hide. 

BAM! I fall to the ground. I don’t have time to recover from the hard hit, so I quickly stand and lock eyes with Ori, who’s standing right in front of me. He holds a sword.

“Ori, please let me pass.”

“I can’t.” I can hear hurt in his voice. He wipes a sweaty hand on his pants and places it back on the sword’s handle. It’s heartbreaking. Even without my wand, I feel as though I could kill him in a second. He’s no match for me, but I don’t want to fight him. I can try and run, but my feet won’t move. I can’t run from him after one of my own killed one of his without reason. I feel terrible. Tears fill my eyes as I realize I will be taken prisoner. I hear thunderous feet pounding the ground behind me. Ori lowers his sword as two dwarves catch up to us. One grabs my hands and binds them with a thick, itchy rope behind my back. The other steps in front of me. The blond one. I think his name is Fili. For a man with a braided mustache, he is intimidating. Unlike Ori, when this one looks at me, I feel a small ounce of fear grow in my belly. He just stares at me and smiles. Not a kind smile, but a knowing smile.

“If you’ll follow me.” He walks on. His voice is shaky. One of his friends has died, and these dwarven men seem to be very passionate beings. They care for each other, and it only makes me feel worse. A tear escapes my eye. They probably think I weep for Evan, but no. I do for their loss, and for what’s to come. I don’t know where my sister is. I don’t know where I’m being taken, or what is to happen to me. The unknown terrifies me above all else. 

“Take her to Thorin,” Fili commands. The one behind me shoves me, and we start walking.


	2. Chapter 2

**CELIA**

I look to my left...Fili. I look to my right...Ori. A third, massive dwarf towers behind me. Unlike the others, this one, who at dinner introduced himself as Dwalin, is partially bald with symbols tattooed along his scalp. Or maybe it's dwarven writing. I don't know

What I do know is that I can't escape. Three angry dwarves cover my sides and back, and a dark forest covers my front. The freedom my wand could grant me is out of the question as my hands are bound.

Why did I let myself get captured? Why couldn't I just keep running?

Sometimes I think it would be easier to be a heartless Death Eater. We cause so much pain, it would be nice not to feel any of it. Not to feel any guilt.

“Ori, when---” The sudden sound of Fili's voice startles me, causing me to leap backwards into Dwalin whose strong frame doesn't seem to move whatsoever. Fili and Ori stare at me and I can feel Dwalin's eyes on the back of my head. I regain my composure as best as one can with their hands tied and continue walking.

“As I was saying, Ori, when we reach camp and Thorin asks, I'm going to tell him it was me who invited these...” He looks at me. I keep my eyes fixed on the ground ahead, and even though I can't see him, I can feel the disgusted look on his face. “...guests to dinner. I can handle his temper better than you. Alright?” Ori shrugs and looks down. He knows it's for the best. Fili gives him a friendly pat on the back.

“I have never seen you in Erebor, nor the company you travel with.” Realizing he's now speaking to me, my back stiffens. Even though I'm walking right next to him, I’m hoping eventually they’ll somehow forget I’m there.

“Your names have never come off a single tongue in our city, so where do you come from?”

“Do you know the names of all those who live in Erebor?” I reply, instantly regretting it.

Fili chuckles. “I don't think it wise for you to be saying anything but the truth, girl. I do not know of any other place in this land that a dwarf would proudly call home. Do you, Dwalin?”

“Certainly not,” he answers with a hoarse voice.

Fili turns back to me and I'm yet again the focus of his uncomfortable gaze. “So, why don't you tell us where you're from and what you're doing here?”

I don’t answer. I don't know what to say. I remember Freya's words. We musn't speak of our world. We must protect it. I decide the best way I can do so is to be silent.

“Not going to answer, eh?” Fili asks, already knowing he isn’t going to get it out of me. In the distance, a warm campfire comes into view. I don't feel the excitement I did when I saw the last one. There is no promise of food and lively company and songs. No, this time the sight of the flames sends a cold shiver down my spine. As we approach, I see Rabastan Lestrange and Rowan Wilkes. Instead of conversing over wooden bowls of stew like before, they now kneel on both knees, dwarves on either side of them keeping watchful eyes. One wears a pointed hat, the other looks like an older version of Ori, but with a full beard. Rowan breathes a sigh of relief when he sees me.

I reach the fire’s edge. Fili releases his hold on my arm, now certain I cannot escape. On the other side of the blazing fire, I see the back of a dwarf who's speaking to Ori. He wears a black fur coat, his long dark hair with bits of grey cascade down his back. He's the only one I don't remember meeting at dinner. Perhaps he was asleep when we arrived. Fili goes over to him, places a hand on his shoulder, and says something that I can't hear. The dark haired dwarf nods and turns toward me.

As he walks closer to the fire I get a better look at him. His attire seems much nicer than the other dwarves. He wears black and royal blues instead of the dusty browns and greens the others wear. He has many rings and a belt with jewels. Even someone not from this world can see that he is a man of great importance.

Dwalin leaves me standing alone in front of the mighty dwarf. I struggle to get the courage to look up at him. For what my people did to his, I don’t owe them any disrespect, so I look at him.

The first thing I see is a pair of brilliant blue eyes. The kind of blue that a person takes notice to. For such vibrant, uplifting colors, there is a sadness that lies within. He has a beard, shorter than the others. No braids or jewels hang from it. The kind of beard a man from my world would sport.

All eyes are on us.

“What is your name?” he asks never breaking eye contact. His baritone voice vibrates through my body. His question was quiet and unthreatening but it was filled with power and commanded attention. I don't answer him.

“Your prince asked you a question!” Dwalin shouts. My eyes go to him and are suddenly fixed on something behind him. A sheet that is covering something. I squint my eyes, trying to get a better look. A pair of brown boots sticks out from underneath. I realize bodies lie under it.

“Is my sister under there?” Unable to point I keep my eyes on the sheet. Everyone looks at the sheet except Thorin. He keeps his eyes locked on my tired face. No one answers, waiting to see what their prince will do.

“What is your name?” he calmly asks again. My sight becomes blurry from the tears welling up. I don't hear his question, the pounding of my heart is too loud. “Is my sister under there?” I yell. “Is she among the dead?”

Thorin moves close to me now. I'm overwhelmed with the sweet scent of crisp mountain air. I drink it in.

“Tell me your name and I shall tell you your sister’s fate,” he plainly states.

“Celia Stonehill,” my shaky voice manages. He turns to Dwalin, motioning for him to remove the sheet from the corpses.

Dwalin tears the sheet off. Three bloody and dirty bodies are now visible for all to see. I see Gavin Travers, pale now that death fills his veins. And the poor dwarf Evan killed. He doesn't look threatening in life or death. There's one more body. I walk around the fire to get a better look.

_Please don't let it be Freya. Please God please._

I see the face of Theodore Nott and make a sound I didn't know I was capable of projecting. I fall to my knees crying. She's not there. Thanks heavens she's not there

“Kili, Gloin!” I hear the pointy hatted dwarf shout. I look up and see them emerge from the darkness, both out of breath.

“You said there were seven of them?” Thorin asks Dwalin, who nods. 

“Two are missing.” 

Thorin thinks for a moment before coming up with a plan. “Kili, find the other two. I don't want this scum running around my lands. If you find them dead, make sure they are dead. If they are not, kill them.”

I begin crying harder. “No!”

“Leave now, Kili!” Thorin shouts. His voice is terrifying and even more powerful when loud.”Hurry!”

“Alone?” Fili cuts in. “There are two of them out there!”

“He’ll manage,” Thorin replies.

“I’ll manage,” Kili echoes. He looks at me, knelt down, crying, my eyes silently begging him not to kill Freya. He runs back to his horse and gallops into the woods. He knows he cannot fail the prince.

“Gloin, ride with haste to Erebor and find anyone that may have heard of or is in relation to the Stonehill name.”

“Ay,” Gloin mumbles before climbing onto a brown pony and riding off.

I look at the ground but can still feel Thorin's intense stare.

“Stand!”

I continue crying and can't move. I feel Dwalin's huge arms under mine, lifting me up like I weigh nothing. I am now standing like Thorin ordered. He doesn't seem to ever not get his way. He steps closer to me. So close my heaving chest almost touches his. He lifts my chin, forcing me to look into those sad eyes. What has he seen to emulate such sadness?

“Search her.”

I feel hands patting me down, going through my pockets. Thorin's eyes remain on mine the whole time. Whoever's searching me, I assume Dwalin, reaches into my boot.

_Shit._

He pulls out my wand and I hear the other dwarves gasp.

“She has one, too,” I hear Ori say.

“That's what that boy used to kill Farin. He said some funny words and a green light shot out,” Fili says pointing at my wand.

Thorin holds his hand out and Dwalin places the wand in his grasp. He snaps it in half, eyes still on mine.

“Bofur, watch these three until dawn with Dwalin. I'm going to bed.” He turns and walks away. “And bury the two dead dwarves, I don't want them near Farin. We will bring him with us and return him to his family for a proper burial.”

He disappears into his tent. Dwalin shoves me down next to Rabastan and Rowan. I am without my wand and my sister. I am no longer a Death Eater, but a prisoner of the dwarf prince.

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**FREYA**

The water is ice cold as I dip my feet in and take itty bitty steps into the river I was fortunate enough to find. This would have been a perfect opportunity to whip out the map and get an idea of exactly where the hell I am, but Celia still has it so I’m just as lost as I was before. I do remember seeing a river—Forest River, I think it was—on the map, but I can’t for the life of me recall whether it was north or south of Old Forest Road. I want to kick myself for my poor memory. 

I’m knee deep in the water now. My clothes lie abandoned on the riverbank, my wand and sword safely tucked away underneath my massive coat. I walked north for two and a half days, finishing off what water I had in my bag and eating absolutely nothing. I came across some berries yesterday, but their bitterness burned my tongue and I spat them out instantly. They were most definitely poisonous. Maybe there are some edible fish in this river. Catching them would be the hard part. I’m so hungry I’d probably eat them raw. 

I take a few more steps as my skin grows accustomed to the piercing cold. I’m completely exposed. But to whom? The water? The trees? Christ, if I never see another tree again… I start to shiver as a light breeze picks up, biting the skin on my legs where the water dips down in tiny waves. I’ve had enough. I take a deep breath, steeling myself, and take a big step before submerging myself completely beneath the surface. My lungs try to expand in shock, but I hold my breath with every ounce of strength I have left. After the initial moment of _holy shit that’s freezing_ , my muscles start to relax and I can start to scrub the dirt and dried sweat from my face and neck. It’s quiet down here. Peaceful. I slowly let a few bubbles escape my nose and let my arms float away from me. I could fall asleep right here, but that would be ill-advised. I let myself float back up, my legs outstretched, until I’m lying on the surface, half submerged. I fill my lungs with a fresh breath of air, wipe the water from my eyelashes, and peer up at the sky. A few clouds interrupt the endless blue. Middle Earth. England. Antarctica. Narnia. The sky is the same no matter how far from home you stray. It’s a reliable constant, the one dependable thing in the history of history. I imagine for a moment that I’m back home, swimming in the lake at my parent’s estate. It’s a warm sunny day. Celia lies on the pier, getting some sun. But then my Dark Mark starts to burn, a summons from the Dark Lord, and I’m right back here where I belong. There’s no escaping it except through death. My father was a Death Eater, and so I became one. I wish Celia hadn’t followed me. She was so inherently good. She could have done or been anything she wanted to be. But instead she’s God knows where.

What a mission this is. It’s so much bigger than us. So much more than I ever imagined. Three of us are dead, two are missing, Celia is probably in hiding or locked up in a cage somewhere, and I’m floating in the coldest, slowest moving river I’ve ever seen. When I tilt my head back to see the shore, I find I haven’t moved more than ten feet downriver.

When I step back onto dry land, my skin tingles and my hair clings to my back. I feel good, but only physically. My mind has become a mixture of _what the hell do I do now, where the hell is Celia,_ and _how the hell are we all getting back home?_ Maybe we’re stuck here until we retrieve the Resurrection Stone. Maybe Voldemort will send someone after us. Maybe we’ve been banished here and this whole mission was a clever way of getting us to go. Whatever the reason, I try not to let any more questions run through my mind. I am physically and mentally exhausted and I just want to sleep. 

I go back to my pile of clothes and realize I have nothing to dry off with, so I lay my coat out and sit on top of it. I have to let the sun dry me. Good thing it doesn’t take long. Sitting naked in the middle of nowhere isn’t exactly what I want to be doing at this point. Once the majority of the water evaporates from my skin, I slip my clothes back on. They’re nice and warm from being left out in the sun. I tuck my wand back into my boot, tie my sword to my belt, and continue on my way.

Each step grows more laborious as my energy starts to run dangerously low. I’m sleep deprived and starving. I hate this place. I hate Mirkwood Forest. I hate Middle Earth. I hate Voldemort for sending me here. I hate whoever hid the Stone here. I hate Kili for leaving me in the middle of the woods. I hate the fact that the image of his face after he shot Evan pulls the guilt from my subconscious, hard as I try to keep it entombed. I hate that I can’t get that face out of my head. 

I finally collapse in the shade of a giant willow. My stomach growls. I’m so hungry I expect it will soon start trying to digest itself in hopes of finding a bit of nutrition. I could pull my wand out and… what? _Accio_ some food? Imperius myself to stop being hungry? The former wouldn’t work without a specific object in mind, and the latter just wouldn’t work, period. I slowly descend into a deep sleep as my brain starts to recharge itself, and I don’t know if the hand on my shoulder is a dream or if there’s someone there with me, but either way, I can’t be bothered to worry about it now.

 

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**CELIA**

I can’t sleep, not only because of the dwarves’ snoring, which is loud enough to wake a coma patient, but also because of those eyes, the blue eyes that belong to the face of Thorin. How a man that I don’t know is so hurt and disgusted by me makes me feel sick. It’s freezing and I now cling to the fur coat that I was cursing earlier for being too heavy and hot. I lie on the ice cold hard ground knowing that I need sleep, trying desperately, but with Bofur and Dwalin watching me, I can’t. I decide to sneak a peek at them. Dwalin has fallen asleep. He’s sitting straight up against a tree and is snoring like he’s getting the best sleep of his life. Maybe dwarves are used to these sleeping conditions. I look over at Bofur, who’s sitting comfortably on a rock, whittling something that I think is a bird. The campfire has dwindled, but there are a few scarce flames left. I slowly get up, already sore from the hard ground, and sit closer to the warmth. I know Bofur is watching me closely now, making sure I’m not trying to get away, but his stare doesn’t bother me anymore.

The fire hypnotizes me, leaving me to wander freely in my thoughts. I start to think of home. Even in my current position as prisoner, home is nothing to think fondly of. I am a black sheep in a family of Death Eaters, which I suppose is a good thing, but not when your own parents treat you as if you’re a stranger sometimes. They know that my becoming a Death Eater was not something I wanted. 

A sudden loud snore comes out of Bofur’s throat, snapping me out of my thoughts. The fire is now completely out. I wonder how long I’ve been sitting here. I look around and everyone’s asleep. Even though the darkness is terrifying, I’m suddenly fully aware that I have to go to the bathroom and therefore must leave my comfortable spot.

I stand, careful not to make any noise. Once I’m up, I look around again, making sure no one’s awake. I cautiously step over Rabastan, whose snore is that of a little girl’s compared to the dwarves. I safely make it to the treeline without getting caught. I find a good tree to pee behind and relieve myself. I pray no one wakes up and finds me like this, leaning my back against the tree, knees bent, and pants down at my ankles. Luckily, my prayers are answered. For a split second I think of running. Freya’s out there somewhere. I hope. But I lost the map and I don’t have a weapon. All I can do is hope if Kili does find her, he spares her life. 

I make the short walk back to camp. I step back over Rabastan and sit back down by the nonexistent fire. 

“You came back,” a deep, quiet voice says that sends shivers down my spine. I gasp and look up. Thorin sits across the burnt wood, blue eyes glaring at me. I had been looking at the ground the whole time. I didn’t even notice him there. I don’t say anything. I just look back at him. I don’t feel as if I’m I any danger. 

“I often have bad dreams that wake me, and sitting outside in the fresh air seems to be the only thing that helps me clear my mind,” he says, this time not looking at me, but at his now ringless hands. They’re shaking a bit. He looks less regal and more like any other man haunted by nightmares. 

He looks back up at me with those sad eyes and I quickly turn away, not realizing I was staring at him. He stands.

“Good night, Celia.”

I watch him enter his tent, preparing for another attempt at good night’s sleep. I lie down and decide to do the same. While sleep can sometimes leave someone scared or with unwanted thoughts, it can also be a welcome escape.

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**FREYA**

I wake up to the sun beating down on my eyelids. How the sunlight managed to slip between the leaves and land precisely on my face is beyond me, but at least I didn’t wake up in pitch darkness. I open my eyes slowly, blinking to restore their moisture. The world is blurry for a moment, but then everything comes back into focus and _boy was I not expecting to see that_. There, sitting against a tree near my willow, is the man whose last words to me were a threat, whose face made me feel guilty for the actions of someone else’s temper. Kili. His arms are crossed and he’s glaring at me. He looks like a toddler in a time out. 

I try to say something but my voice hasn’t woken up yet. I sit up slowly, rubbing my eyes and pulling twigs out of my hair. I’m trying to give myself time to decide whether to attack or run or stay. My instincts tell me attack, but I’ve never been one to follow my instincts. Once I’ve removed the last twig, I look over at Kili. He doesn’t move an inch. Just sits and glares. 

“Something bothering you?” I ask flatly. 

“Have you finished primping yourself up?” His sarcasm matches mine. 

“All finished.” My voice is laced with malice. Perhaps that wasn’t a good idea, as he is suddenly on his feet, the string of his bow stretched back to his cheek, arrow aimed at my face. 

“In that case…” What, he was waiting for me to wake up before killing me? What a gentleman. I’m suddenly very aware of where my wand is tucked away in my boot. My fingers itch to pull it out, mutter a curse, and be done with it. There’s no one else around. No one would know. Until someone finds him dead with no fatal wounds or anything to suggest something other than dark magic. And of course, all fingers would point to us strangers. I could probably outrun whatever’s sent after me. But I don’t know where the rest of my group is, or if they’re even alive, for that matter. So I leave my wand where it is and instead pull myself slowly to my feet.

“I’ve done nothing to deserve death,” I try to reason. Technically I haven’t killed anyone yet. “Two of my people died at the camp and only one of yours. It seems the odds are a little uneven, don’t you think?” I’ve always been good at talking my way out of things, but from the looks of it, Kili isn’t having it. At least the arrow is still in his bow and not in my head. 

“Don’t forget, it is your man who killed mine without reason,” he argues, arrow still loaded.

“I know,” I reply. “And he paid for it with his own life by your arrow.”

“What sort of magic was that?” Oh, good. The one question I didn’t want him to ask. 

I answer with the only thing I can. Ignorance. “I don’t know,” I lie. “He’s always had a knack for dark magic. If I’d know he was capable of that sort of thing I would never have associated with him, much less let him travel with us.”

“You did know,” he replies without missing a beat. “You said ‘no wands’. What does that mean if not magic?”

I don’t answer. I may have a way with words, but this dwarf is too damn stubborn to believe them. My hand flies to the handle of my sword, but it freezes there when Kili pulls his bow string tighter.

“Don’t,” he warns. I don’t doubt he’ll shoot, but I do doubt he’ll hit his mark. I just need a good opportunity to move. We stare each other down for a few endless moments as I scan my surroundings in my peripheral vision. Oh, how I wish that string would snap. _Petrificus totalus_ , I think, wishing I had my wand in my hand. I seem to be doing a whole lot of wishing and very little escaping. 

“Do you know what happened to my sister?” I ask in a final attempt at reasoning. 

He hesitates before answering. “I do.”

“Where is she?”

“Why should I tell you? It’s not like you’ll ever see her again.”

_“Where is she?”_ I shout it this time in an effort to make it known how much he doesn’t want to cross me. He barely reacts, unyielding and steadfast. Damn stubborn dwarf. At his continued refusal to answer me, I yank my sword from its sheath and lunge toward him, ducking to avoid the arrow shooting directly at my left eye. Such good aim, but I’m too fast. By the time I reach him, he has his own sword unsheathed and our blades meet once again, but this time I push mine hard against his, inching it closer and closer to his throat. He’s about to heave his weight against mine, but I’m one step ahead of him. I hook my heel around the back of his ankle and give a good pull, sending him to the ground on his back. I step on the wrist holding his sword and point my blade at his head, my other foot pressing down hard on his chest. 

“I just want to know where my sister is,” I plead, trying to suppress the desperation in my voice. If I find out she’s dead, Kili’s dead. And so are the rest of them. Every single one of them. I’ll cut their throats myself.

“She’s alive,” he says. Lucky for him. “Is that what you want to know?”

“I want to know where she is,” I repeat. “What part of that is so hard for you to understand?”

“She’s with Thorin.”

“Who?”

“What do you mean ‘who’?” he asks with a puzzled expression. Shit. Should I know who that is? “Thorin bloody Oakenshield. Would you mind taking your boot off my wrist before you break it, please?”

I step aside, releasing him from my stance, but I keep my sword raised. 

“Look,” he continues. “You’re obviously not who you say you are. So if I take you to your sister will you tell us where you’ve come from and then kindly disappear back there?”

“I’d love to go back but I can’t,” I say too quickly. That was stupid. Really stupid. “I’ll tell you everything _if and when_ I see my sister again. And only then. No more questions.”

He considers the offer for a moment. He strikes me as rather curious. I can tell he really wants to know. Too bad he’ll never find out. The moment Celia and I are reunited, we’ll be off on our mission again, and if we have to leave a few dead dwarves in our wake, so be it.

“Alright,” he agrees. “But don’t try anything.”

“I won’t,” I reply.

He gets up and dusts himself off, sheathes his sword, and retrieves his bow from where he dropped it. I return my own sword to its sheath and follow him to his horse. One horse.

“One horse?” I ask.

“Would you rather walk?” he retorts as he mounts it. “I wasn’t exactly planning on leaving with company.”

I approach the saddle, but when I try to climb onto it, I only make it about halfway up. I step back down, dizzy and weak. I’d almost forgotten I haven’t eaten in three days. To my surprise, Kili holds out his hand. Slightly embarrassed, I take it and hoist myself up unto the saddle behind him. When we take off, I try to keep what distance I can from him, which is only about three inches. I grip the sides of his coat to stay on the horse. I am not about to wrap my arms around his waist. I don’t care if it’s safer that way; I’m perfectly fine like this. I’m choking on enough of his long hair as it is. 

We ride in silence for a long while. I don’t ask if he has anything to eat. I need to keep what dignity I have left. At last we break free of the trees and come to a wide bridge over a river. Must be the same river I bathed in earlier. I thank my lucky stars Kili didn’t find me then. My cheeks burn red at the thought.

We’re almost at the bridge when there’s a loud screech from between the trees somewhere across the river, like some strange animal screaming, and Kili pulls hard on the reigns to stop the horse.

“What was that?” I ask. From what little I can see of his face he looks worried.

“Orcs.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop whoop, chapter 3 is up! We've been handwriting everything then typing it up, so our hands are cramping up like a motherf- anyway, hope you enjoy!
> 
> (By the way, we love comments, positive and negative. Constructive criticism helps us develop our story better. We love it like we love cake pops from Starbucks and long walks on the beach and food and shoes and okay I'll stop.)

**CELIA**

“Get up!” I hear, feeling the light nudge of a muddy boot. I don’t have to look to know that harsh voice belongs to Dwalin. My eyes are heavy with exhaustion. I don’t remember when I fell asleep. It feels like five minutes ago. Even in the morning this forest is dark. I manage to sit up. I wish I had a toothbrush. My usually straight, chestnut hair is in tangles that I don’t bother trying to undo. 

The campsite is busy. Some dwarves are packing up their gear, others are sitting down, eating what smells like left over stew. Mmmm…

Just as my stomach starts to growl, Bofur, the whittling, hat-wearing dwarf, comes over to me holding out a steaming bowl. His braids stick out as wide as his smile. 

“Here you are,” he lightheartedly says, kneeling down. His kindness catches me off guard. I look at his offering and as much as I don’t want to take anything from them after what my people did to theirs, my hands grab the bowl and I ravenously start shoving large spoonfuls into my mouth. Filthy, tired, sitting on the ground, I enjoy the best meal I’ve ever had. “I hope you slept well.” With a genuine smile, he pats my shoulder twice and walks away. I continue eating, not giving myself time to swallow. I just keep shoving, and as I reach the last few sips my spoon won’t hold, I place my flushed lips on the bowl’s edge and drink. 

As I tilt my head back, I notice Thorin regally standing in front of me. The only reason he’s not disgusted with my eating habits is because of how I saw the dwarves eating last night. This is nothing out of the ordinary to him. He looks at me, then at my fellow prisoners, Rabastan and Rowan. They sit a few feet away from me, licking their bowls clean.

“Bofur!” he calls with that deep, haunting voice that spoke of sleepless nights only a couple of hours ago. Bofur looks over. “Pour these three another helping of stew. They’ll need it.” He storms off.

I look to my left and realize there are only six horses, one for each of the five dwarves, and the sixth for their deceased friend. Kili and Gloin took the other two. I’m guessing since we were not offered the riderless horse, we shall be traveling by foot. I give a light smile to Bofur, who hands me another bowl. This time I don’t even bother with the spoon. I just drink, my eyes closed, enjoying the only pleasure I will have until the next meal. 

Satisfied, I look over at Rabastan and Rowan. Rowan looks as if he’s barely awake enough to lift his spoon. I’m still not used to him with long braided hair. Rabastan, next to him, empty bowl by his side, glares at the dwarves, furious. Evan was a good friend of his, even though he was a few years older. I pray he doesn’t act on his anger, but it’s pointless to hope. He is a Death Eater. 

***

My hands are tied to a rope that hangs around the neck of Bofur’s horse. Rabastan is tied to Fili’s, and Rowan to Dwalin’s. Thorin is in the lead and Ori at the end. We’re off.

I feel like every step we take, the crunch of the leaves under our feet has just woken a sleeping beast somewhere in the bushes. I wish I had my wand. I don’t feel safe without it. Is this how muggles feel all the time?

“Where are we going?” Rabastan angrily asks. No answer. “Hello?” he impatiently barks. He stops walking in hopes that it’ll stop Fili’s horse, but Fili just yanks the reigns, sending Rabastan flying forward. He and Dwalin laugh. Ori sneezes.

“Bless you!” Rowan and I say in unison. All the dwarves look at us, except Thorin. Oh, crap. Do they not say bless you here? Luckily they don’t question it, and look back ahead. I turn and look at Ori. I try to smile at him, but he just looks away. He hates me, and I feel terrible. He was so sweet to us strangers, he probably feels like it’s all his fault. 

“Don’t worry, he’ll come around,” Bofur quietly says. My confusion takes over.

“Why are you being kind to me?” 

“I’m able to let go of my anger a lot quicker than my friends,” he says with a thick Irish brogue. “I saw what happened, and you didn’t hurt anybody, including Ori. I saw you two in the forest. You could have killed him but didn’t. I can tell you have a good heart.” A Death Eater with a good heart? Is there such a thing? “And I had an arrow pointed at your head the whole time, so I’m glad you didn’t,” Bofur says, half his face filled with a cheerful smile. I can’t help but to laugh.

Thorin turns to us, a scowl taking over his face. I immediately shut up. After a few minutes of silent walking, I try my luck again with Bofur. 

“You said that you saw me in the woods spare Ori’s life?” I nervously ask. He’s being friendly, but I’m not sure if it’s alright for me to do the same. I speak so quietly, I’m surprised he hears me.

“Yes,” he answers.

“Did you see my sister? Which way she went?” I murmur. Bofur thinks. He has such an exaggerated face, I can read his emotions and thoughts so clearly.

“Last time I saw her, she and Kili were crossing swords and heading into the trees.” I know she can hold her own, but Kili’s talents with his sword surpassed Freya’s. Nerves fill my veins. Sensing my concern, Bofur adds a bit of optimism. “But not to worry, young lass. I don’t think he would harm her. I noticed he took quite a liking to her at dinner and she did tell your friend to stand down. She tried to stop him. Kili will remember that once he stops seeing red. You know he’s Thorin’s nephew?” I shake my head. I can now see somewhat of a resemblance. They both have dark hair and an intense gaze. I barely spoke to Kili, but he did seem to have a good head on his shoulders. He was kind and funny, much kinder than his uncle. I like Bofur a lot. His smile is contagious. I walk on with a little less worry on my shoulders. 

The grey haze of Mirkwood is something I’m getting used to now. Dreary as it may appear, rainy, cloudy days have always been a favorite of mine. I loved sitting near the big window in my room that overlooked the backyard, sipping hot chocolate, curled up in blankets, escaping into whatever world my books placed me. I always felt safe there. The dark skies made me feel invisible, like I was in my own world. Though it is not raining out here, the air is crisp and the bits of sky I can see are grey. I pretend for a moment I’m walking around on my own, or with the good company of Bofur, not tied to a horse, but free to explore this vast land that is all too new. 

“Halt!” Thorin shouts, jerking me out of my fantasy. He dismounts and walks towards a tree. He pulls a handful of coarse brown hair off a branch and inspects it. He turns and looks at Dwalin. “Orcs have come through here not long ago.”

I hear Ori gasp. I desperately want to know what Orcs are and what danger they hold, but I don’t dare ask. I have to start putting some effort into seeming like I’m from here. I hope Rabastan and Rowan do the same. 

“What are—“ I hear Rabastan start to question. I quickly turn my head and give him a death glare. No words need to be spoken, and he understands. 

“What was that, boy?” Dwalin asks, suspicious. 

“I didn’t say anything,” Rabastan replies, avoiding Dwalin’s stare. Dwalin exerts a huff, and loyally turns back to Thorin. 

“We won’t make it out of Mirkwood for at least another two moons,” Thorin says knowingly, throwing the Orc hair to the ground. “All we can do now is be ready in case they attack, which, if they’ve picked up our scent, is likely. Let this not disrupt our travels. Let this not disrupt the justice that we owe Farin’s family,” he coldly says. He glances at me momentarily before mounting his horse and riding off. The others follow. I begin walking again, not realizing how nice it was to stand still, even if only for a few moments. Thorin’s icy stare still burns in my mind.

***

“We’ll rest here for the night,” Thorin decides, dismounting. The others follow suit. After securing the tired horses, Bofur unties us three prisoners and my wrists take a well deserved break from the itchy rope. 

“You,” Dwalin says, pointing at me and my fellow Death Eaters. “Sit over there and be quiet.” Rowan and I walk over to where he ordered us. Rabastan doesn’t move. 

“Rabastan!” I hiss, wanting to avoid unneeded trouble. 

“What are you doing, boy?” Dwalin asks as he walks closer to Rabastan. “I said go sit over there.” He won’t move. I’m scared to death of Dwalin, so it takes every ounce of courage I have to walk over to him and grab Rabastan. 

“Come on!” I plead. He finally gives in and follows me. We sit on the ground. Now that the show’s over, the dwarves stop staring. I see Fili let go of his sword. Once the dwarves are occupied with setting up their shelter and cooking a large pot of stew, I take the opportunity to speak with Rabastan. 

“You really have to calm down,” I quietly say. “I know you’re angry, but we can’t provoke them until we have a plan to escape.”

“They killed Evan,” he says, staring at the ground, his fists clenched. 

“And Evan killed the dwarf first,” Rowan adds. “I know he was your friend, Rabastan. He was a friend to all of us. But Celia’s right. We have to sit tight until we have a plan to escape. Evan’s mistake is affecting our mission to retrieve what the Dark Lord asked of us and you know we cannot disappoint him.” No, we cannot.

“Thorin said we’d make it out of Mirkwood within two moons,” I say, hoping the dwarves can’t hear me. “I think we should wait until then, until we’re out of the forest. It’ll be easier to get away and not get lost in this place. We can walk to the next town and figure out where to go from there.”

“Now there’s a plan,” Rowan agrees.

“And what about Freya?” Rabastan’s words sting. “Will we wait for her if we make it to a nearby town? We might be waiting for a long time.” I don’t speak because I need to use any strength I have to hold back tears. I’ve been trying not to think about Freya. It’s been almost 24 hours since I last saw her, and with each minute that passes, I grow more and more nervous. 

“She’ll catch up,” I manage to say with a controlled tone. I can’t start crying or I won’t be able to stop.

“How can you be so sure?” Rabastan smugly asks. I have no answer for him. I honestly don’t know how sure I am, but I can’t say it out loud. That’ll make it all too real.

“I can be sure. I can make sure we get away and find Freya and kill the bastard dwarf that killed Evan.” He has my attention now. I look at him with a furrowed brow as he pulls the tip of a wand out of his boot. I shove it back in as soon as I see it. 

“How?” I ask in a loud whisper. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he smirks. I slap his arm. He looks around to make sure no one is listening. “When we first ran into that little dwarf—“

“Ori,” I interrupt him.

“Yeah, whatever,” he continues. “And he invited us for dinner, I was nervous. If they found out who we were and what our wands could do, they’d take them, so I put a stick in my pocket as a decoy. When they captured me, they mistook it as my wand and broke it,” he finishes with a mischievous grin. He is a very smart wizard. 

“You can’t use that, boy. Not now, anyway,” Rowan carefully says, trying not to provoke the young Death Eater.

“And why not, old man? You really think her plan will work?” Rabastan glares at Rowan, daring him to answer. “You two are fools. If I have to get the Stone myself, I will,” he says with a hint of entitlement. 

“Please, Rabastan,” I beg. “You really think you can take the dwarves alone? Even with your wand, you won’t be able to kill them all. They’re skilled fighters, and you’re outnumbered. We cannot draw more attention to our magic than we already have.”

“I take orders from no one but Voldemort,” he says, feeling his wand through the rough material of his boot. 

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

**FREYA**

_What are Orcs and why do you look so worried?_ I almost ask, but manage to bite my tongue before I give Kili any more reason not to trust me. Much as I hate to admit it, I need him. At least until I find Celia. He keeps absolutely still, listening. I listen too, but I don’t know what I’m trying to hear. At this point, I suppose anything but the silence and the occasional shuffling of the horse’s hooves will do. That screech is still ringing in my ears and I hope to God I don’t hear it again. But I know I will. I know that’s what we’re listening for. I’m about to open my mouth to say something, but then Kili whispers, very quietly, “We need to hide. Now.” He climbs down from the horse so silently that I would have thought he was still sitting in front of me if my eyes were closed. He offers his hand to help me down without a thought. Clearly what we’re up against takes precedence over recent grudges. I decide not to risk our lives just to be defiant and take his hand. When my feet hit the ground the sound is strident in comparison to Kili’s soundless movements. I freeze the moment I regain my footing and no longer have to rely on the dwarf for support. I don’t want to make any more noise now that I’m so frightened of something that I have absolutely no knowledge of. I’m simply playing along now. It’s all just a five-year-old’s game of pretend with the next door neighbor’s son, an imagination run wild. This is what I tell myself in a futile attempt at calming my racing heart. If only I knew what had made that screech, if only I knew what Orcs were, maybe then I’d have some idea of what the hell I should do. 

When I look at Kili, who I didn’t hear move at all, he’s slowly backing away from the bridge toward the trees, his bow and an arrow already in hand. He sees me staring at him and nods at me to follow him with an expression that begs the question, _what the hell are you still standing there for?_ My greatest weakness in this place is not knowing it at all, and for a moment I’m glad I’m in Kili’s company. I’m grateful. 

There’s another screech from the trees across the bridge. It’s closer this time. Louder. I practically jump out of my boots before taking hasty tip-toed steps after Kili, who’s now disappeared behind a tree. I never realized until now just how much I rely on my wand and my magic. My first instincts tell me to damn it all to hell and just rip my wand from my boot, and here is this man, ready to take on whatever lurks beyond that bridge without so much as the knowledge of one single spell. I can’t imagine the courage it takes to fight as a muggle, which is really what he is. No magic means muggle. Muggle means enemy. But what sort of enemy prepares to fight alongside you against a common opponent? Once I’m out of the heat of the impending battle, I’ll need to take a serious look at my judgments. 

“Stay down and keep quiet,” he orders in a voice barely above a whisper but that is so confident it may as well have been a barked command from a drill sergeant. No sooner do the words leave his lips than the rumbling of encroaching footsteps of a heard of wild animals attacks my eardrums. 

I don’t know how it happens, but suddenly my right hand is pulling my sword from its sheath and I’m following Kili out from behind the tree and toward the ever-increasing din. At some point I’ll have to learn to follow orders from someone other than Voldemort, as such a skill would have greatly benefitted me in this moment. We’re faced against a pack of what looks to me like a cross between werewolves and rabid dogs. They’re enormous. And riding astride them are some of the ugliest creatures I’ve ever seen. Those must be the Orcs. Luckily they don’t see us as we cross the clearing between the trees and the water and duck down beneath the bridge.

“I should have known you couldn’t follow directions,” Kili states noncommittally as we situate ourselves just above the water. 

“I’m surprised you expected me to,” I say, matching his tone. The rumbling is directly above us now as the pack crosses the bridge. Our horse is long gone by this point, having done the smart thing by running away. If we had any hope for escape, that horse was it, but instead we’re sitting under a bridge, hiding. I don’t want to fight those things without magic, but I expect I’ll have to if Kili decides it’s a good idea to face them down. Two against…how many? Six? Seven? Spectacular odds… I don’t think the dwarf is that stupid. I don’t think _anyone_ is that stupid. 

The footsteps stop once they’re over the bridge. Fantastic. We’re sitting ducks if they decide to take a drink from the river or go for a swim. Maybe I’m lucky and they hate water. 

I get my answer when I see two gigantic paws appear at the edge of the water a few feet from the bridge. It startles me and I begin to scramble away, but I’m stopped by a pair of surprisingly strong arms as Kili holds me still, one hand clamped over my mouth. I feel like he might break my jaw, but I’m thankful for his forcefulness, for I most certainly would have screamed and killed us both in doing so. I don’t know why being so out of my element in such a strange land has drained me of all my courage, but I’m trembling as we watch the beast dip its head for a drink, neither of us even daring to breathe. I curse my pounding heart. I’m sure the were-dog can hear it. Even Kili can hear it apparently, as he leans in close and whispers right in my ear, “Calm down.” I want to strangle him, then. Calm down? How the hell does he expect me to do that? But I have to try, at least, so I close my eyes and take a deep breath through my nose, trying to think happy thoughts. I can still feel adrenaline burning in my chest, but my heart rate decreases a little. I don’t want to die. My wand can protect me, but I don’t really have use of it at the moment.

_Please don’t see us, please don’t see us,_ my thoughts beg the ferocious beast. With teeth like that it could rip the skin from our bones like a chicken dinner. After drinking what must have been several gallons of the river water, it lifts its head again so all I can see are the massive claws as they dig into the dirt. Kili’s relaxed his grip on me a bit. I slowly pull his hand from my face to show him I won’t make a sound, and he relents. My breaths are shaky, but I’ve managed to keep them relatively silent. Kili’s eyes are locked on the were-dog, his bow and arrow on the ground beside him, forgotten.

The beast starts pawing at the ground, but suddenly freezes as if it’s heard something. One of the Orcs says something in a strange language, and the rumbling picks up again as they continue on their way. We sit in silence for what feels like hours before Kili finally starts to relax. He lets go of me without saying anything like _they’re gone_ or _it’s safe._ He just pokes his head out from under the bridge, and gets up once he’s satisfied the coast is clear. He dusts himself off and retrieves his bow and arrow while I remain still and silent, the last of my fear starting to dissolve. He gives me a quizzical look. 

“They’re gone, Freya,” he says. “It’s alright.” Then he turns around and walks away. If that was his idea of comforting, I’d hate to see him try to show empathy to anyone. Stubborn and emotionless. And to think I actually admired him for his courage not that long ago. Then again, courage and stubbornness aren’t mutually exclusive. If anything, courage is born from a stubborn heart. I should know. I’m rather stubborn myself. But not like Kili. He’s stubborn towards others, whereas I’m stubborn with myself. I’m my own worst enemy most of the time. Defiance for the sake of defiance never really got me that far, but if it meant saying no to someone who thought they had authority over me, I’d always choose that path. As far as I’m concerned, the Dark Lord tells me what to do and no one else. If it means I let things get destroyed in the process, so be it. To dance on the deck of a slowly sinking ship while blowing holes in the lifeboats is more like me than saving the captain and commander who barked orders at me throughout the entire voyage. 

Reluctantly, but glad that we’re out of danger, I pull myself to my feet, my legs still shaking and betraying the stark face I try to put on. If I didn’t care about Voldemort’s orders, my wand would have been drawn a long time ago and maybe I wouldn’t feel like such a pansy. But as it is, my spine needs to abandon its jelly-like state and help me out a bit. 

“I guess we’re stuck on foot, then,” I observe as I start to follow Kili back into the trees. He doesn’t reply, but I swear I can hear him rolling his eyes, impossible as that may be. But I’d rather not walk in complete silence, even if that means talking to the last person I want to be stuck in Middle Earth with.

“You had no idea what those things were, did you?” he finally asks.

“What happened to no more questions?” I immediately shoot back. Granted, he’s already fully aware that I’m not from around these parts, but the less he knows about me, the better.

“I agreed to no more questions about where you’re from,” he replies. “But I’d rather not have you be completely helpless if I’m going to be stuck with you for the foreseeable future.”

“I’m not completely helpless,” I argue, knowing that it’s a blatant lie.

“What would you have done if they found you alone?” he asks. If I were alone I would have whipped out my wand and killed the lot of them. But I can’t quite tell him that, can I?

“I would have hidden, just like we did,” I say, trying to disguise the uncertainty in my voice. 

“You didn’t seem very keen on doing so,” Kili says. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you would have stood there and let them devour you.” _Well, fuck you, too,_ I think. I’m walking right behind him and a soft breeze blows his hair to the side, revealing a neck just begging to be strangled. It would be so easy. I could just wrap my arm around his throat and give it a good squeeze. But then who would take me to Celia? I’d be digging myself into a deeper hole than the one I’ve already chosen to bury myself in by agreeing to this bloody mission in the first place.

“Listen, dwarf,” I begin, the last of my patience already long gone. “I know you think I’m some useless girl who wouldn’t last five minutes in these woods without you, but you really shouldn’t let your massive ego blind you to the fact that you still have no idea what I can do and that you will only find out the hard way if you continue to look down your enormous nose at me.”

And then the bastard has the audacity to laugh at me. Well, it’s more of an amused snort, but it still makes me see red. 

“Hey!” I shout as I shove at his back as hard as I can, causing him to stumble a bit but not fall over. “I’m not kidding!”

He whips around, presenting me with the most unaffected expression he can manage, which only makes me angrier. He raises his eyebrows at me like a parent daring a child to curse again. I take the bait and punch him in the face. Hard. My knuckles throb from the impact, but the resulting drop of blood emerging from the split skin below his left eye makes up for it. As soon as he recovers, he shoves be back against a tree, one hand holding me there by my throat. 

“I don’t have to help you!” he snarls. “I could kill you right now and no one would care! No one would even know.” He’s right. Killing me would be no problem for him. I need to find my sister, but I don’t want to apologize and make amends. The thought of doing so is beyond repulsive. Maybe a bigger threat will get through to him. I try to twist free of his grip, but I’d forgotten how strong he is. I pry at the hand around my throat as a distraction from my right hand reaching down to my boot. I can almost reach my wand. 

“Do it then,” I dare him, trying to stall for time. His fingers tighten around my neck as he brings his face closer to mine. 

“You doubt I will?” he threatens, but it’s in vain, for I finally wrap my fingers around the end of my wand and pull it free. 

I push the point against the underside of his chin and mutter, “Don’t tempt me.” That seems to work. He lets go of me and backs away slowly, staring at my twisted, mahogany wand. There is no doubt in my mind that he remembers Evan’s wand and what it did. Good. Now he knows what I can do, to some extent. 

“Alright,” he surrenders with his hands raised. “So you’re not completely helpless.”

“I’m glad we agree.” I lower my wand and he lowers his hands. He touches his face where the blood has started trickling down and winces. I continue in the direction we were going, and as I pass him I wave my wand at his face. He flinches, but realizes I’ve healed him when there’s no more blood coming off on his hand. I know I shouldn’t have done it, but I figure some sort of peace offering would make this ordeal a whole lot easier. 

I keep walking. I can hear his footsteps close behind me. He lets me lead the way for awhile as we must be going in the right direction. My stomach starts rumbling. In all the excitement form earlier, my hunger had disappeared as I had more important things to worry about. But now that it’s resurfaced, I have no choice but to turn to the dwarf. 

“You’re hungry,” he says just as I open my mouth to tell him so.

“How’d you know?”

“I can hear your stomach from all the way back here.” Of course he can. He’d have to be deaf not to hear my insane hunger. “We can stop here,” he says as he pulls his bow from his back. “I’ll go find us something to eat.” 

He disappears into the trees as I untie my sword from my belt and drop my bag onto the ground. The muscles in my legs are throbbing with exhaustion and my eyelids are growing heavy. A nice meal and some sleep will do wonders.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

**CELIA**

The dwarves finish their song. 

“That was beautiful,” I say, so mesmerized by their harmonic voices I completely forget my place. I forget I’m not one of them. Thorin looks away from the fire and into my eyes. 

“Will you sing us a song?” Bofur kindly asks, trying to include me. Dwalin chuckles.

“No, I won’t pester you with my voice.”

“She really is awful,” Rowan adds, trying to help the uncomfortable situation. 

“Nonsense!” Bofur exclaims. “Every dwarf is blessed with a melodic voice.”

“Well, maybe they’re not dwarves,” Dwalin coldly says. I have no response. I look down into the fire. I find whenever I look into flames, I instantly start to daydream. It’s a pleasant escape. 

“Perhaps, if you are not skilled in song, you will play us something,” Thorin says. His tone is calm, yet his voice holds such power. I can’t seem to tell if he’s being kind or ordering me. He holds out a golden lyre. I do actually enjoy playing the guitar at home, and the cello. I love string instruments and although I’ve never tested my fingers with a lyre, I wonder if I’d be good at it. I look at the golden lyre, then into the sad eyes of Thorin. Even though I want desperately to decline, I feel like I cannot. Thorin Oakenshield always gets his way. 

He gets up and walks over to me. I look up at him as he stands in front of me and hands me the lyre. He takes a few steps back and watches. They all watch. I hold the lyre and think of any song I can. I don’t know any dwarf melodies. _Fuck._ I look up at Thorin nervously. He just stares, waiting. I look down at the lyre, then close my eyes. I imagine they’re not there. I think of home and a song comes to mind, a song that always keeps me company when I feel alone. I begin to play the Claire de Lune. It takes me only moments to get used to the strings and my confidence grows. I think of dancing to this song with my father in his library, my small feet on top of his as he teaches me to dance. It’s one of the few moments I can remember him or my mother showing affection to me. Freya sits on my mother’s lap in the corner, clapping along to the music. This rare happy thought makes me smile and starts to bring tears to my eyes. 

I reach the end of the song, and after strumming the last note, I open my eyes. A tear streams down my cheek and I quickly wipe it away, hoping no one saw. But unfortunately, when I get the courage to look up at my audience, all eyes are on me. Ori has tears in his eyes that he does not wipe away. Even Dwalin looks touched. 

“Well, bless me, young lass,” Bofur softly says. “Where did you learn such a beautiful tune?”

“My father,” I say with a smile. 

“How lovely you play,” Ori unexpectedly says. I smile at him. He hasn’t spoken to me since my capture. Thorin kneels down in front of me. He looks like he is going to say something, but stops himself and takes the golden instrument from my hands. It sparkles from the reflection of the dancing flames. 

Thorin takes his seat on the other side of the fire. 

“Your father would be proud,” Rowan whispers. He always knew my father well. 

The comfortable silence is interrupted by Rabastan. “May I have some more broth?” Rabastan asks rudely. My heart starts to race a bit. I know he’s trying to provoke the dwarves. 

“Everyone had an equal share,” I say. “He’s fine.”

“Well, I’m still hungry,” he says again. 

“Are you not thankful for the bit you got?” Dwalin says, his voice getting loud. “You’re lucky you got any after what you lot did.”

“If I remember correctly, which I do, I didn’t do anything.”

“You’re in a company,” Dwalin fires back, now standing. “You’re a part of each other. What one of you does, all of you do. Do you have no loyalty?”

“Of course I have loyalty,” Rabastan says as he too stands. “In fact, I have a vengeance to fulfill.”

“Watch yourself now, boy,” Dwalin commands.

“Rabastan, stop,” I say, standing. “Now.” I look deep into his eyes as if trying to control him, but I know there is no talking sense into him.

“I suggest you sit back down,” Thorin says, exuding power. Even for a dwarf he seems tall. “You seem to forget you are a prisoner, and you and yours have been treated very well as such.”

“Rabastan, he’s right. Please,” Rowan tries, but no luck.

“No!” Rabastan shouts. “Do you forget why we’re here, old man? We must complete our mission.” I look at the dwarves. They look confused, but also ready for a fight. Dwalin takes out an ax.

“You think that frightens me?” Rabastan asks as he pulls out his wand. Ori gasps. 

“That was taken from your possession!” Bofur exclaims. 

“You merely took a stick.”

“It’s fake,” Dwalin says. 

“Oh?” Rabastan smirks.

“Rabastan, don’t!” I shout.

_“Stupefy!”_ he yells, sending Dwalin flying back into a tree. Thorin, now seeing the magic firsthand, looks shocked. He runs to Dwalin. Rabastan points his wand at the rest of the dwarves. 

“Take one step closer and I’ll do the same to you!”

Thorin runs back to the fire. “He’s not dead, but the wind was knocked out of him.” Thorin looks at Rabastan. “What is this dark magic?”

“It’s none of your concern!” he yells. Fili pulls out his sword. “Put that down! All of you, weapons down!” The dwarves wait for instructions from their prince. He slowly puts his sword down. The rest follow, Fili being the last and most reluctant.

“Where did you send the dwarf that killed my friend?” Rabastan asks. “Where?” I know they will not say, and for that I am glad. I don’t want Rabastan with Freya in this rage. “You tell me now, dwarf. I swear to God—“

“Shh!” Fili says. The dwarves are silent. 

“Don’t tell me to be quiet!”

“Orcs are among us,” Fili says to Thorin, his voice low. Orcs, the owners of the hair Thorin found by the tree. I want to know what these things are. I feel so vulnerable without my wand. The dwarves’ attention breaks from Rabastan, and they pick their weapons up, looking around.

“Put out the fire,” Thorin demands. Fili easily lifts the heavy pot of stew and dumps it onto the flames. We are now in darkness, except for the blue glow of the moonlight. 

“I said put your weapons down!” Rabastan shouts. 

“Be quiet,” Thorin harshly says. 

“I will not be quiet! My demands will be heard!”

Thorin marches over to him, not fearing the wand that is now covered in darkness. This intimidates Rabastan and Thorin takes the chance and grabs his jaw.

“Do you wish an Orc attack upon us?”

“Piss off!” Rabastan shouts. I hear something in the trees behind me. I turn around and walk backwards towards Bofur. Everyone looks in the direction of the sound, except Thorin. His eyes are still on Rabastan. 

“Now look what you’ve done.” He lets go of Rabastan’s jaw. “Dwalin!” he yells. Dwalin, who’s now bleeding from his cheek from Rabastan’s spell, tosses Thorin his sword, which he effortlessly catches. Bofur motions for me to stand behind him. Fili grips his sword. We all stand in the darkness, listening to the sounds all around us that appear to be getting closer. I grip the back of Bofur’s jacket.

“Take the knife out of my belt,” he whispers. I do as I’m told. It’s a small, sharp knife. I don’t know what I’m up against, but at least I know I have something to defend myself with. I hear a growl and instantly freeze. Multiple screeches are heard all around us like a war cry, but from God knows what.

“Get ready!” Thorin shouts. 

“Stay close,” Bofur says to me. “And if you get the chance, run and climb as high as you can.” My heart is pounding through my chest. I am not ready for whatever’s about to happen. 

The screeching is now right in front of us, and the Orcs violently emerge from the trees. Thorin, Dwalin, and Fili yell back their war cry like thunder as they run at the Orcs, weapons drawn. I get my first look at these monsters. Huge. They smell awful, and look like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Their skin like mud, yellow sharp teeth. Even with my wand, I’d be too scared to kill one. 

The mighty crash of swords erupts and chaos breaks out. I stand behind Bofur, frozen, too scared to move. I watch as Dwalin plants his ax into the head of one. Fili cuts the leg of the Orc he’s fighting. It falls to the ground and he stabs it in the heart, leaving it dead before fighting off another. I don’t see Rabastan anywhere, but I spot Rowan holding a rock for protection. 

“Rowan!” I yell. He looks over at me and I toss him Bofur’s knife. He catches it a looks around. Thorin is skillfully fighting an Orc who also carries a sword. However, he seems to be struggling because of a bloody gash on his bicep. Rowan bravely jumps onto the back of the Orc and slits its throat. It falls to the ground and he stabs it in the head. He and Thorin watch it fall and take its last breath. As the distracted duo watch, an Orc tackles Rowan so hard, everyone can hear the thud as he hits the ground, knocked unconscious. Thorin watches as the Orc points the tip of its blade to Rowan’s chest and does nothing. He continues fighting. 

“No!” I yell so loud that it hurts my throat. The Orc plunges its sword into Rowan, sticks its huge foot on his chest, and yanks the blade out hard, covered in Rowan’s blood. Without thinking, I run over to Rowan, my only friend here. Bofur, no longer feeling me behind him, turns to see where I’ve gone. I run to Rowan, oblivious to the creatures. 

“Fili!” Bofur shouts, pointing at the Orc about to attack me. Fili blocks the Orc’s blade just before it hits my back. He fights it away from me and Bofur runs in front of me, protecting me from further attack. I try to shake life back into Rowan. It doesn’t work. He is dead. 

I hear a growl in front of me. I look up and see an Orc that almost looks like it’s smiling at me. An evil smile. Not breaking eye contact, I grab the knife from Rowan’s dead grip. I stand up. I want to do nothing but run as fast as I can, but I don’t move from the towering Orc. I scream and hold out the knife with the intention of running at it, not thinking about the consequences, but Dwalin beats me to it. He drives his ax right through the Orc’s head. It’s dead.

The sound of swords and axes dies down. The stench of blood fills my nostrils. I kneel back down next to Rowan’s body. I can’t believe he’s dead. Bofur, exhausted from the fight, collapses next to me. He gently places his hand on my shoulder. It stings and I shrug away. I look down and see a huge gash in my shoulder. I didn’t even realize I was cut. I feel numb. 

“We’ll get that cleaned up,” Bofur kindly says. I want to put my head on his chest and cry, but don’t. What good would it do? I hear an Orc’s now all too familiar screech on the ground. Fili puts it out of its misery. I see Ori sitting, facing away from the massacre that just happened. He has a cut on his neck, but for the most part seems alright. Dwalin walks around, eyeing the Orcs, making sure none are still alive. I don’t see Rabastan anywhere. I know he ran, the coward. He could have used his wand to protect us but didn’t. he’s going after the Stone himself, and will probably get transported home by himself. If he does, I’ll be left here alone.

I hear footsteps stop in front of me, and this time, instead of seeing an Orc, I see Thorin. I stand up, angrier than when the Orc was there. 

“You let him die! I saw you!” I yell. Dwalin starts to tell me not to speak to him like that, but Thorin puts his bloody hand up, silently telling him to stand down. “Why didn’t you help him?” I cry. It’s hard to breathe. “He saved you and you watched as the Orc killed him! Why?” 

He doesn’t answer, which makes me angrier. I shove his strong chest. He barely moves as I am extremely weak, probably from the loss of blood. I’m hysterical. I’m crying harder than I ever thought possible. I can barely breathe. I try sucking in as much air as I can, but it’s impossible. My knees buckle and I fall into Thorin. He catches me. 

“No! Let go of me!” I yell. “Don’t touch me!” I try to push him off, but everything around me starts to go black.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello!   
> So we realize it's been, what....3 weeks since our last update? Things have been crazy with our jobs and our timing and whatnot so we haven't had much time to sit and plot this shiet out. We've only been able to write our parts separately. We'll try to stick to our goal of 1-2 updates per week, but we can't promise we won't have a couple gaps in between.
> 
> Anywho, we hope you enjoy! And please please please leave comments, whether they're positive comments or constructive criticism. Every bit helps us.

**FREYA**

A distant hum. A silent plea. A scar on the wrist. Green and grey. Green and grey. Weightless. Motionless. Lifeless.

A light growing brighter.   
A dark light growing darker.

A pulse. A pinch. A throb. A flinch.   
Laughing. Laughing. Crying.   
Laughing.

Come, children! Gather round!   
Wait and see. Wait and see.

Flickering lights.   
Tearing bites.   
Falling from fantastic heights.

There is no life. There is no death.   
There is no pain. There is no breath.

The hallowed serpent gives a quiet hiss.   
“A loyal servant shall not remiss.”

Flames of blue and ashen grey.   
Veins to keep the blood at bay.   
Join me in this cabaret.   
Help me wash the stains away.

Run away! Run away!   
Do not join and sit and play!  
This is not your dying day.   
This is only—GO AWAY!

GO AWAY! GO AWAY!   
You cheat. You lie. You kill. Betray.   
You are only, as we say,   
the darkness to the ending day.

Obey. Obey. Obey. OBEY.   
I am part of this array.   
I am here and on this day   
one of you and, steady, stay.

I awake to the sound of my own scream. For a moment all I see is blinding white as my eyes adjust to the early morning sun. The cold pricks my skin and causes my hair to stand on end. I grip my arm at the sharp burning where my Dark Mark is hidden. Everything is still blinding. My eyes feel like they’re having the fluid squeezed out of them. My wrist burns hotter. And then I see nothing. No blackness. No infinite white.

When I come to, Kili is sitting over me, his hands on my cheek and forehead. His concerned expression tells me I must have been acting rather strange. What’s most unsettling is the memory of a voice like a snake reminding me of my mission and of where my loyalties lie. Legilimency between worlds is not something I ever thought possible. Another _world_ is not something I ever thought possible, but here I am. And there’s the Dark Lord’s voice in my head. But it’s just a memory. I have no account of the moment I actually heard the message, only a memory of the message itself. He’s growing impatient. Not good. 

I’m suddenly aware of the fact that I haven’t been breathing. I gasp for a deep lungful of air and all my sight comes back to me as I sit up. The grip I didn’t know I had on Kili’s shoulder relaxes as my panting slows. When I look up at him he’s wearing that same concerned face.

“You alright?” he asks.

“Fine,” I reply with a shake of my head. I’m not fine. I almost suffocated myself.

“Not very convincing.” Figures he wouldn’t buy it. He still doesn’t trust me. I’ve given him no reason to so it only makes sense.

As my vision sharpens I take a moment to look around our makeshift camp, the burnt wood from the fire, the leftovers from our rabbit dinner that only took Kili five minutes to catch. I don’t know where he slept. I knocked out before he did, what with my ravenous hunger finally satiated and my exhaustion winning the fight against consciousness. I don’t even know if he slept at all. From the looks of it, he’s more tired than I was. Keeping watch? Plagued by nightmares? Whatever the reason, I remained undisturbed. I mistrust him just a bit less.

“Did you sleep?” I ask, too curious to resist. 

“Not well,” he grumbles as he starts packing his things. His diagnosis, though he doesn’t tell me so, must be that I am perfectly alright and ready to continue on our journey. 

“Sorry,” I reply as honestly as I can. I’ve decided that whatever lie I try to tell him, he’ll know it isn’t the truth, so why bother in the first place? It would sound stupid to say I can be myself, so I’ll just say I don’t care about my projection of myself anymore. Three days in this place and it’s already taken the best and worst out of me and reduced me to a raw, unedited version of myself, a version that even I am not entirely familiar with. As much as I want to please the Dark Lord, I never wanted to deal with being a foreigner in an entirely separate world from my own, with losing some of my friends to the natives, with possibly losing my sister. If anyone deserves this, it’s me, not her. She should be at home studying potions or perfecting her flying skills. She was always so good at Quidditch. What good will those talents do her here?

I remain seated where I woke up, twirling my wand in my hand. I wonder just how much of its power it retained on the way here, but a demonstration of my magic probably isn’t the best idea. Once Kili’s finished packing he sits down beside me. 

“I know we said no more questions, but I can’t help but wonder what sort of weapon that is,” he says, eyeing my wand. “I saw what it did when your friend used it.”

“It’s not a weapon at all,” I answer, determined to convince him of it. “It’s a wand. It’s how we use our magic. Some of us choose to use it to hurt and kill, but that’s not what it’s meant for.”

“Does ‘some of us’ include you?”

I hesitate. The answer is yes, but I need him to trust me. I honestly don’t care what he thinks of me, I just need him to bring me to Celia. His trust in me could make the trip a whole lot easier. Based on logic and a tactful plan, I need to rein in my negative feelings just a tad. And maybe show him I have nothing to hide. 

“It does,” I finally say.

“Why?” he asks.

I can’t explain the Death Eaters to him. I can’t explain Voldemort, or our battle for blood purity, or those who call us evil. I can only say, “It has to.” This makes him shake his head.

“It doesn’t have to,” he disagrees. “It’s your choice.”

“I fight for a cause,” I reply. “And that means actually fighting for it.”

“If you kill to defend and protect from evil, there is no shame in it.”

“That depends on your definition of evil.”

“What’s yours?”

I don’t have an answer for him. I don’t know what evil is and what it isn’t. I prefer to look at things the way my Lord puts it: _there is no good and evil. There is only power and those too weak to seek it._ But I don’t seek power. Voldemort seeks power. I only seek protection from those who wish to harm me, and if that power can provide it, I will fight for it.

“Let me put it this way,” I offer, trying to find a way of explaining it without actually explaining it. “You care for your people, yes?”

“Yes.”

“And you would do anything to ensure their survival and happiness, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Then that’s all you need to know about me.”

This seems to resonate with him. I’m glad I was blessed with a sharp tongue and a way with words. I may or may not have justified murder as a necessary evil, but I don’t think Kili sees it that way. He doesn’t know what we’re truly like, vicious, unyielding, a prominent force in a world of passiveness and lethargy. 

“Well,” he suddenly perks up. “Best be on our way, then.”

 

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**CELIA**

I'm still yet I'm moving. I slowly open my eyes. My head is pounding. I try to say something but all that comes out is a moan.

"Stop! She's awake!" I hear Bofur yell. We come to a sudden halt. I realize I'm on a horse because I look below me and see Bofur standing there smiling. Ori rushes over with a large wooden cup of water. I drink it so fast that most of it spills out before reaching my mouth. 

"Quick, get her another!" Bofur tells Ori, who runs off. 

I look around, and as usual in this group, all eyes are on me. But as I look at all the faces, and don’t see Rabastan's or Rowan's, the memories of the previous night come flooding back and hit me hard. 

"Where's Rowan?" I ask with a weak voice. Ori returns with the water and I drink it quickly. 

"Your friend was killed last ni—“ Fili starts to say but I find the strength to yell over him. 

"I know he's dead!" I try to dismount my horse. Bofur and Ori begin to help me but I shrug them off. Now standing, I realize I'm still extremely weak but I mustn't show it. I hold onto the side of the horse for support. The world around me is spinning. 

"I watched him die!" I yell. I can see Thorin in the corner of my eye but I don't dare look at him or I fear I'll kill him. "What I'm asking you is where is his body? Did you leave him to forever lie with the Orc?"

"No," Dwalin answers. 

"Well then, what was done?" I shout. I look around, waiting for an answer. I notice the dwarf that Evan killed is no longer with us either. "Where is your friend? I thought we were taking him home for a ‘proper dwarf burial.’"

"Our direction has changed," Thorin says. His voice fills me with a rage and I march over to him. 

"Do not speak to me! Instead of running, I stayed and fought with you! And you let my friend die!" I yell. I start to feel very light headed and Bofur grabs me as I’m about to fall. I don't shrug him off this time. "I'm still your prisoner but you are not to speak to me for I will not be speaking to you!"

"Get her on a horse," Thorin orders before starting to ride ahead. He doesn't even look at me and that makes me furious.

"Oh dear, I'm afraid you're still too weak to ride on your own," Bofur says examining me with concern.

"She can ride with me," Fili offers his hand. 

"I'm fine," I say unconvincingly. 

"You're a stubborn young lass," Bofur starts to say. "But come now, we’re only trying to help.”

Even though I haven't known Bofur or Fili long, I'm starting to trust them. And that is not something I do easily. Bofur's been nothing but a friend and Fili saved me last night. Knowing they're right, I grab Fili's extended hand and he easily lifts me up. I plop down behind him and we begin a slow walk. Bofur walks alongside Fili's horse. 

"After an Orc kill, we usually burn them, but being in Mirkwood, we can't do that. We'd burn the whole forest down. So instead we piled the dead carcasses and left them there. Having seen your magic first hand now, Thorin decided we will be going to Rivendell to seek answers from the elves," Bofur kindly informs me. 

"And what about Rowan? And your friend?" I ask, not sure if I want to know.

"We buried them," he answers, looking down. "We could not carry them the distance of Rivendell."

I feel bad that they could not take their friend’s body home to his family. "You had the decency to bury my friend. Thank you," I say with sincere gratitude. 

"He did," Bofur motions to Thorin. Anger and confusion fills me in equal parts. The man who let another die takes the time to bury him? I don't say anything about it, for I don't know what to feel.

"I'm sorry you couldn't take your friend home," I manage.

"Me too," Bofur says. He continues walking beside Fili's horse for a while. I suppose he’s making sure I don't fall off. The longer I'm awake, the stronger I begin to feel. I place my fingers on my wounded shoulder and feel bandages.

"You're welcome," Fili says. I can tell he's smirking. 

These dwarven men are strange. They sing beautiful songs, fight like warriors, care for and will protect each other until the end. Death Eaters will kill one another without question if it means getting to live for one more day. Although the dwarves carry weapons, they seem to lead with their hearts more than their urge to fight. 

Worn down and filled with memories of the previous night, everyone is pretty quiet today. Not having to walk allows me to wander free in thoughts. Unfortunately these thoughts consist of Freya's current fate, the Dark Lord’s wrath if we do not get what he wants, and Thorin letting Rowan die. What am I going to do?

"You hear that lads?" Bofur says with an excited tone. "Water."

All the horses stop and everyone listens. Sure enough, just in the short distance I hear flowing water. How on earth did Bofur of all people hear it before the rest of us with that thick hat covering his ears? All the dwarves dismount. I stay on Bow, Fili's horse, as he leads her by the reins to a tree. After securing her, he starts taking off his heavy coat and then starts unbuttoning his many layers. I look around and see most all the dwarves are beginning to undress. I realize the excitement wasn’t because our thirsts were about to be quenched, but we were about to take a much needed bath. I'm so tired I haven't realized how bad the smell of dried blood and dirt coming off us is. I had grown used to it. 

"Um...," is all I’m able to shyly say. That doesn't get me anywhere, so I clear my throat loudly. 

Bofur, who's now down to his long johns and, yes, still wearing the hat, looks over. "Well, don’t be shy now. None of us are going to look," he says smoothly.

"Yeah," Fili chimes in. "And if you're worried about Ori, don't be. He's got a girlfriend back home to think of." They all laugh. Ori tries to put on a happy face and laugh along with them but I can tell he's a little hurt. Fili gives him a reassuring pat on the back. They all continue to undress. I avert my eyes as they run into the water, leaving me sitting on Bow, and Thorin standing by the tree she's tied to. I desperately want to take a bath. I'm filthy. It's not like I’m uncomfortable with my body. I have an hourglass figure and I’m in shape because I love to hike, but I feel vulnerable right now. I want to be invisible. 

"You can bathe in the clearing behind me," a deep voice says with a bit of a rasp from all the yelling last night. He doesn't look at me while he speaks. “I’ll stand here. You won't be seen. But I’ll hear you if you try to run." Thorin stands still and looks at the horizon. I don't know why, but I trust that he won't look. 

I climb off Bow. While I'm grateful that I can bathe in peace, I do not look at Thorin, nor do I thank him. The terrible events of last night have constantly been playing in my mind. All I want to do is spit on him, but I don't do that either. We don’t make eye contact as I walk past him. 

I set my bag on the grass and before undressing I turn around just to make sure he's not looking. He's standing exactly how he was when I left. He’s a man of his word. Now confident of my privacy, I peel off my many layers and a cool breeze hits my skin. I quickly run into the water, which is surprisingly warm, and let the blood, dirt, and death come off my body. 

After a while of scrubbing and relaxing I feel something swim by my foot. I know it's probably just a fish but my imagination scares me enough to decide it’s time to leave the river.  
After drying off in the sun I put on my bright green pants, the lightest of layers, my blue shirt, and zip up my dark brown boots. Luckily none of them were stained with blood.

I scrub water on the clothes that were unfortunate enough to have blood spilled on them. I can't completely get the stains out but that's okay. 

I go through my bag and take out a small vile of daisy scented perfume that Freya laughed at me for packing. I spray some on myself and my clothes. The enchanting scent fills my nostrils and smells so sweet I could eat it. I untangle my brown hair as much as I'm able to and head back to the camp site. Thorin is still standing by the tree, his back to me. I pass him and put my bag down by Bow. I hear him inhale deeply. Is he smelling my perfume?

Too embarrassed to look, I keep my focus on refolding my already folded clothes.

Thorin starts to undress. He's not shy, as he doesn't ask me not to look, but I think he knows I wasn't going to judging by how red my cheeks are becoming. He proceeds to go over to where I bathed. I don't watch. 

Bofur walks over, buttoning his shirt, is braids still sticking out perfectly. How does he do that without hair spray? Fili's blonde hair is wet, his shirt left buttoned exposing flat abs. Usually I wouldn't be able to control my stare but after what happened last night, and the situation I'm in, I couldn’t care less. 

"I guess we'll camp here tonight," Fili says, ringing out his hair. "It's always safer to camp near water. One less direction you can be attacked from." He directs this statement at me and finishes it off with a wink. 

"One less direction you can escape to," I fire back. He walks closer to me.

"Dwarves don't escape. We fight."

"Aye!" Dwalin yells in agreement. 

"Come here, Celia" Bofur calls, digging through his bag. He pats the ground next to him and I sit down. 

"Do you mind?" he asks motioning for me to pull my shirt down to expose the wound on my shoulder. I do so. I had to take off the bandages before I bathed. They were disgusting, soaked through with blood. I still don't remember when it happened. 

"That's a nice cut you got there, lass," Bofur says, mixing herbs and water. Ori kneels down in front of me.

"You can squeeze my hand if you'd like." He extends his hand to me. I notice he has fresh bandages on his neck. Even though I'm sure I can handle the pain I don't refuse his kind offer. I take his hand. Bofur gently puts the herbal mixture on my healing wound and it instantly starts burning. It burns more than fire. I uncontrollably let out a moan and squeeze Ori's hand. 

"The burning is a good thing. That means it’s working," Bofur softly tells me. He holds out more of the mixture. I nod, allowing him to put the rest on. It burns even more this time. I start to pant and let out another moan. I squeeze my eyes shut as hard as I’m squeezing Ori's hand. Finally, he's done.

"We have to let that dry before putting the bandages on," Bofur explains. 

"Okay," I manage. I open my eyes. "Thank you," I say to Ori. "You can have your hand back now."

"It was my pleasure," he says before walking away. 

"Get a fire going," a haunting voice commands. Thorin walks over to Bofur and me. He wears pants, boots, and nothing else, revealing a masculine figure, a hairy chest, and strong arms. He picks up the bowl of Bofur’s herbal mixture and pats some on his wounded bicep without so much as flinching. He's just saving face, I bet. The smug bastard. He sets the bowl down and his scent surrounds me. He smells like nature. 

"May I have some bandages?" he smoothly asks. I don't hear Bofur answer so I look up at Thorin, whose blue eyes are looking right back at me. He's reaching his hand out and I realize I’m holding the bandages. I give him half. His hand touches mine as he takes them. I pull away from his touch. I'm still disgusted with him. He almost looks hurt for a moment but says thank you and walks away. 

I touch the spot where his hand touched mine. Part of me pulled away because I despise him and I don't want him talking to me, let alone touching me. But I retracted my hand so quickly at first because his touch sent shocks of electricity through me. 

"Alright, ready?" Bofur asks me. I nod and watch Thorin put his own bandages on. His muscular back is facing me as he talks to a clean faced Dwalin. It's odd seeing Dwalin without dirt on his face. 

"There we are," Bofur says as he finishes placing the last of the bandages on me. 

"Thank you." I give him a smile. 

"You should do that more often,” he says. "It suits you." And with that, he gets up. 

How can I smile at a time like this?

I look back at Thorin, who glances over at me at the same time. I look away. I need Freya.

 

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**FREYA**

We walk. And we walk. And we walk some more. And then Kili changes our direction completely. So we backtrack a bit. Then keep walking. It was something about Rivendell. He didn’t tell me exactly why we’re going there. Sometimes I just want to punch him in the mouth. Maybe that’ll get him talking. Stupid stubborn dwarf. With such an expressive face. Such a nice face. Those damn eyebrows. _Stop it._ I try to snap myself out of it. I’m about to say something in an effort at starting a conversation about _anything at all_ when my face is blasted with sunlight. I can’t believe it. We’re out of Mirkwood.

The trees are only behind us now. And before us only land. No massive lakes or rivers. I want to kiss the fresh, free air, run as fast as I can without turning or looking down every three steps, touch the clearly visible clouds in the sky. I have to stop walking and take a moment to look at the horizon and the mountains giving it its jagged edge. Kili stops a few steps ahead of me.

“Hate forests, do you?” he asks rather cheerfully. He must be just as glad to be rid of the trees as I am. 

“Just this one,” I reply. 

“Oh, it’s a lovely old forest,” he teases. “It holds the potential for so many adventures.”

“And so many headaches,” I add as I keep walking. “I don’t like being covered and cut off from the world. I need to see the sky.”

“Well, you’ll be seeing plenty of it from now on,” Kili says. “All the way to Rivendell.” He rolls his eyes at the last part. 

“What’s in Rivendell?” I ask.

“I thought your company traveled through there before we met,” he replies. 

“We did say that, didn’t we?” I remember. “Well, we had to say something. We were never in Rivendell.”

“Thought not,” he says with a wink. “You didn’t miss much. It’s full of elves.”

“Why don’t you like elves?” I ask, imagining tiny little pixie-like creatures.

“They’re an arrogant bunch,” he says. “And they’re much too tall.”

“Elves? Tall?” 

“They short where you’re from?”

“Only up to my knee. And we only have house elves.”

“What the bloody hell is a house elf?”

“I’ve said too much now. No more questions.”

“Sounds like a pet.”

“No more questions.”

“D’you feed them scraps and put them outside if they misbehave?”

I can’t help the snort that escapes me. The thought of treating house elves like pets instead of servants is rather comical.

Although it’s the middle of the day, the sky seems to grow darker as we approach the foothills of a massive mountain range—the Misty Mountains, according to Kili. He takes us to a winding path snaking between the rocks and we begin heading south along the hills. The uneven terrain proves tedious to maneuver, but Kili doesn’t seem to have a problem with it. Damn dwarf. 

The sky is now completely blanketed by a thick layer of dark grey clouds. It looks like a storm is on its way. I’m about to ask Kili if he thinks it’ll rain when, lo and behold, it starts pouring. Our clothes are soaked within ten seconds, but the water’s warm so I don’t mind it much.

“You were about to ask if it would rain, weren’t you?” Kili asks me with an expression that says _I’m going to kill you, Freya._

“I didn’t, though,” I say apologetically. He turns back to the path and continues on his way. 

“Are we really going to keep walking in this?” I call after him, shouting to be heard over the din of the heavy raindrops. I feel about fifty pounds heavier thanks to my drenched coat and the unrelenting downpour pushing me ankle deep into the mud with every step. I can barely see Kili ten feet in front of me, but I can see him slip a couple times. At this point, I’m pretty sure his only reason to keep going is just to spite me because the rain is somehow my fault. I don’t give him the satisfaction of complaining any more after he ignores my question. I want to catch up to him and maybe walk ahead of him for awhile. That would show him I’m not as helpless as he likes to think. I shouldn’t have to prove myself to the likes of him, but his stubbornness is getting on my nerves. 

I almost get stuck a few times, but I’m able to wrench my boot out of the thickening mud. This is becoming quite a workout. Then I take another step and my boot won’t budge. It just keeps sinking, ankle deep, calf deep, almost knee deep. I scream Kili’s name at the top of my lungs. Luckily he hears me and starts hurrying back to me. I don’t want to sink any deeper, so I keep yanking my leg in hopes that enough force will pull it free of the soaked earth. But yanking doesn’t seem to be any help, so I use my free leg as a strong support and lean back, pulling my leg as hard as I can. It’s working, but very slowly. It feels like I’m tearing my bones apart at the joints, but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let a bit of rain and mud bury me alive. 

Kili’s almost reached me when the mud finally frees my boot. Unfortunately I was pulling at it so hard that the moment it’s out of the mud I fall backwards. I’m expecting to land on my ass in another pile of rocks and mud, but instead I fall into some sort of opening like a small cave. 

“Freya!” is the last thing I hear before I slide to the bottom of the hole. It’s silent down here. I can’t even hear the rain, or Kili calling my name. I pull myself upright and have a look at my dimly lit surroundings. It’s not a small cave at all. It’s a massive cavern. What little light there is bounces off the fragmented rocks and shoots off in all directions. It’s enough to make me a little dizzy. For a moment I swear I can hear some sort of hissing from behind a large boulder, but I figure it’s just a rock that came loose. I don’t know what sort of creature would want to live in a place like this. 

The slope I slid down continues to an enormous depth. I must be right in the middle of a giant rock sphere. I keep absolutely still. I don’t want to slide to the bottom and be even more stuck. I’ll just wait for Kili to throw me a rope or something. I look up at where I fell from. It’s higher than I thought. That must be why I can’t hear the rain. I don’t see Kili anywhere.

My foot slips, sending a few small rocks tumbling down the cave wall. But they don’t get very far. What I thought was the lower half of the cavern is actually a small lake. The water was so deathly still I didn’t even see it. The reflection of the top of the cave was so sharp I couldn’t tell there was anything there. The rocks I accidentally kicked free create small ripples, disturbing the stagnant water. To be honest, I would have preferred a deep cave over a deep lake. Deep, dark water terrifies me. That’s why I never swam in our lake at night. Celia always made fun of me for it. 

I hear the hissing again, but it’s louder this time. Closer. It’s definitely alive. Rocks don’t hiss like that. I want to find out what it is, but basic instinct keeps me where I am. It sounds angry. Malevolent. Maybe this is its home and I’m an intruder. I don’t know how they deal with intruders here, and I’m not very keen on finding out. Kili’s not here, and it sounds like there’s only one creature, so I pull my wand out of my coat pocket. I don’t know where to point it, though. The echoes around the cavern make it difficult to discern a point of origin. Where the hell is Kili? He’d know what to do. He’s not a stranger in this place. I’m beginning to rely on him too much. I need to get out of this myself.   
I pick up a rock and throw it at the boulder from where I first heard the hiss. 

“Nasty little dwarf,” it whispers from the back of its throat. It definitely does not sound welcoming. Where the hell is it coming from? I notice some movement in the corner of my eye, but when I look all I see is more rocks. “Can we eats it, precious?” Oh, good. Sounds like there’s two of them. “Dwarfs is so juicy. We likes juicy dwarfs, doesn’t we, precious?”  
I scan the rocks, searching for any more motion. My eyes stop on a rock that looks smoother than the rest. Part of it glistens like a jewel. And then it dawns on me. Those are eyes. The creature blends in to its surroundings so well I’m almost caught off guard when it hops out from behind the boulder and runs at me. 

“Stop!” I yell at it, thrusting my wand in its direction. Oddly enough, it works. The creature freezes and stares up at me with its abnormally large, glossy eyes. 

“Oh, look,” it sneers. “It’s got a stick!” I don’t know how to handle this. It’s small. Doesn’t look too threatening. But if there’s more of them I’m outnumbered. It continues to advance on me. I slowly step back, but there’s not much room. It crouches down like it’s about to pounce. I ready the right spell on the tip of my tongue, but before I can utter it, an avalanche of rocks falls beside me as Kili slides down the wall and knocks the creature back several feet. He goes with it and wrestles it to the ground. It claws and bites at him. Kili’s already bleeding, but he keeps strangling the thing. 

“Kili!” I shout as I rush over to help him. There’s not much I can do. I can only watch as the creature tries to struggle free. It somehow manages to wrap his bony fingers around the knife in Kili’s belt and press it against his throat. Kili jumps back, hands raised. It follows, pressing the knife down harder. I’m surprised it’s not drawing blood.

“Nasty little dwarfses,” it snarls again. It moves like it’s about to push the knife all the way through, but I’m ready for it.

_"Crucio!”_ I scream, and the creature falls backwards to the ground, writhing in blind agony. Pure adrenaline shoots from my center into the rest of my body. It hurts my heart, makes it beat harder. It’s been too long since I’ve used this spell. I almost forgot the dark thrill of causing such immense pain. It’s an almost god-like feeling. I don’t relent. I keep my wand steadily raised, staring the creature down as it makes the most ear-splitting voiceless scream I’ve ever heard. 

“Freya!” I ignore Kili’s plea. “Freya, stop!” I don’t stop. I don’t want to. It was going to kill my one chance at finding my sister and going home. It deserves every moment of this.   
Kili straightens and grabs my arm. I turn on him, pushing the point of my wand to the bottom of his jaw, my other hand gripping his coat collar. Neither of us says anything. It’s silent. The screaming stopped as soon as Kili broke my concentration. His glare looks like he’s daring me to use my wand. He doesn’t seem to be afraid of it. 

“That thing was about to kill you,” I mutter through gritted teeth. “Show a little gratitude.” I push him away and when I turn back to the creature, it’s gone. 

“What the hell were you doing to him?” Kili demands.

“It was just a spell. It’ll live.”

Kili shoots me an unconvinced look but thankfully lets it go. He looks back up to where we came from. 

“Can your little stick get us back up there?” he asks.

“You came down here without a way out?” I return.

“That thing was about to pounce,” he says. “Show a little gratitude,” he adds in the most childlike impression of me he can manage. I roll my eyes and grab his arm tightly, aiming my wand up at the opening of the cave.

“What are you—“ 

_“Ascendio!”_ We shoot up into the air. Kili’s grip on my arm nearly breaks my bones as I drag him up behind me. There’s a rush of cold air as we emerge from the cave and fall into the mud. It’s still raining, but it’s let up a bit. I’ve never been so happy to be stuck out in a storm.

I notice Kili’s face is still bleeding from where the creature scratched him. The cuts look pretty deep. 

“Hold still,” I say, raising my wand. He flinches and brings up a hand to cover his face. “Kili.” I gently push his hand down, revealing a look of pure terror. He thought I was going to use the Cruciatus curse on him. I don’t know why, but something about that idea stabs me in the chest. I thought he was starting to trust me. I guess it only makes sense, though. He’s not used to seeing things like that. It was so easy for me to torture that vicious little animal. If the tables were turned, I’d be frightened, too. Besides, I know what it feels like to be on the wrong end of the curse. It only happened once, but it was worse than hell. It was the one moment in my life that I wished I was dead. The human body can’t handle such pain, but it stays conscious. It makes you feel every moment of it as it tears your nerves to shreds over and over and over. I’m not as avid a user of the Cruciatus curse as some of the other Death Eaters, but I use it when necessary.

“It’s okay,” I reassure him. _“Vulnera Sanentur.”_ He squeezes his eyes shut, probably expecting something worse than the healing of his wounds. When the spell is finished, he’s left with razor thin superficial cuts that no longer bleed. It alleviates some of the pain as well. He relaxes when he realizes what I’ve done.

“Thanks,” he murmurs and pulls himself to his feet. He starts walking away before I can even tuck my wand back into my coat. I’d shout at him to wait, but I figure I better leave him alone for a bit. I don’t want to push my limits. I have no doubt he’ll eventually see what I did was only to help him. He’ll get over the initial shock of the painful screams sooner than he thinks. It only took me about an hour the first time.

 

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

**CELIA**

I wish I had my books. There are many addictions people have in my land, and mine is books. I'm incredibly picky, though. If I don't like one, I can't finish it, but when I find one I like I can't put it down. All I do for the next day or two is read. 

Sitting outside next to the campfire with a view of the lake would be the perfect place to indulge in my addiction. But I bet even if I had my favorite worn book with me I wouldn't be able to concentrate. Thoughts of Freya have now crashed through the doors in my mind that I was trying to keep them out with and now all I can do is sit and let the thoughts take over. I feel so alone and then I look at Thorin who's sitting on the other side of the brilliant flames with a hundred mile stare and anger instantly fills my veins. I hate him. I wish I had the courage to speak my mind like Freya but he's a man of power. Who knows what he could have his men do. As kind as they are to me, they would never deny their beloved prince. 

Fili plops down next to me. 

"What's on your mind?" His breath smells of ale. I don't answer. Must women deal with drunk men in every realm? He holds out the bottle silently offering me some. I figure why not and happily take a long swig. It burns my throat, then goes warm in my stomach. 

"What a sight," Fili says, looking at the lake. It really is quite picturesque. It's the one part of Mirkwood that the trees don't fully shield from the sky. The moonlight shines over the water, the first natural light I've seen since I got here.

"Every time we pass it after a long journey I know we're getting close to home," he says, taking a drink then passing the bottle back to me. I take a sip. 

"But we’re not going home are we?" I ask even though I already know the answer. "We're going to the elves."

"That we are, Celia," he says. 

"Don't you miss your family?" I wonder. 

"This is my family," Fili proudly says. "Thorin is my uncle, Kili is my brother and I've known the others practically my whole life!"

Compared to the other dwarves, he, Kili, and Thorin look similar in the sense that none of the three have elaborate beards and they're all better looking than the rest. I can see the relation now. The silence is now making me uneasy. I try to think of something else to say to keep the conversation going. It's a nice distraction. 

"Aren't you worried with us now traveling to Rivendell Kili won't know where we went?

He gives a smirk and swallows his ale. "Kili is my younger brother, so as much as I'd like to think I’m the best hunter, I'm not. He could easily find us, or find his way back to Erebor. We've been traveling through Mirkwood since we were young. It's a difficult place to navigate but once you find a path and follow it straight through it becomes... less difficult." He smirks and lets out a chuckle. Even traveling through here for years he would never call it easy. "You can't follow the stars or sun because you can't see them. Many have lost their way in here and stayed lost forever." And with that, now completely certain I can't escape, I ask for another drink. He abides. I can almost taste the earth after I swallow and I'm starting to like the way it warms me. I was never much of a drinker. 

Bofur comes over and sits next to us. 

"Ever think about offering some to the rest of us? I know I'm not as pretty as our dear prisoner but really now, Fili, where are your manners?" Without waiting for Fili's offer Bofur yanks the bottle from his hand and takes multiple gulps. He lets out a burp. 

"How's your shoulder Cecilia?" he kindly asks.

"It's feeling better. That stuff you put on has really helped speed up the healing," I thankfully reply. 

"Good. And Thorin?!" Bofur shouts. "How's your arm?” Thorin looks up from his map then back down without changing his intense expression. "He could use this more than any of us," Bofur quietly says before taking another sip. 

Now aching for the warmth of the drink I reach out my hand. "Thanks," I say. 

"Let's go sit by the lake," Bofur excitedly announces. He jumps up and marches to the dark water, bottle in hand. Fili and I follow. As I walk by Thorin I can feel him looking at me. 

We reach the river bank and the view is spectacular. There are more stars in the sky than I've ever seen back home and the way they light up the water is breathtaking.

"So what about your family?" Fili asks. "Where are your parents?"

I don't know how to answer this. They know I don't live in Erebor so I can't say my parents are there. I try to think of an occupation that would lead them to travel but I have no idea what kinds of jobs dwarves have. Voldemort should've given us more knowledge of this land. That's what makes me sick about my parents being Death Eaters. Not only do they practice dark magic but they take pride in what they do and the Dark Lord doesn't appreciate it. If they were to die he would not grieve. He has so many loyal followers willing do whatever he asks of them and get he does not respect them. 

"They're dead," I finally say. It's the only option I have. 

"Oh dear...," Bofur breathes. I take the bottle from his hand and drink the remainder of the liquid. 

"I have another," Fili says with a gentle tone and runs back to camp to get it, leaving me alone with Bofur. He scoots closer to me and puts his hand on my back and that small friendly touch is what makes me lose it. I feel the sting in my eyes as tears roll down my face. I hold my breath in fear that if I were to breath who knows what kind of sound would come out.

"I'm sorry," I manage with a shaky voice. 

"No," Bofur says. "You're right to cry. It's a terrible thing to lose a parent."

As much as I want to give in and let it out, the sound of Fili's approaching footsteps makes me sit up straight and wipe my tears away as best I can. 

Before Fili sits down I take the new heavy bottle from him and drink. 

"Thank you!" I hand it back to him. He holds back a laugh, even though it’s visible on his face. I know Bofur is watching me, making sure I'm okay, but I don't look at him. Any consolation right now, even just a glance, will bring out more tears. 

I lay down, hoping the stars will make me smile, imagining a world far away. They always did at home so why can't they here? Maybe it's because the far away world is mine. Fili and Bofur join me.

We lay there in a very comfortable silence sharing the bottle, slowly emptying it until there's not a drop left.

I hear music. At first I think it might be my imagination but when I open my eyes I know it's real. I roll over onto my stomach and look at camp. Dwalin is asleep, Thorin is still sitting by the fire and Ori is playing a wooden instrument joyfully. It looks like a fiddle. Fili and Bofur are also watching with delight. I see Bofur’s eyes light up with an idea. He stands and puts his hand out. 

"Come on, you two. It's time we have a bit of fun," he says. Fili gets up and I take Bofur’s hand. We make the short walk back to camp. Bofur starts to go through his bag and pulls out a flute. He sits by Ori and listens to the tune. After a few seconds he joins in and together they play a beautiful melody.

"Fili!" Bofur shouts. Fili, who's standing with crossed arms and an amused expression, goes through his bag and pulls out a lyre. Unlike Thorin’s, this one is not made of gold but a dark mahogany wood. I like it better than the gold. He listens to Bofur and Ori and with the same ease as Bofur he smoothly joins in. I sit down and watch in awe at the happy trio. They play with such talent alone but together it's quite spectacular. 

Dwalin is still in a deep slumber. I assume he has the privilege of hearing these dwarves all day so there’s no harm in missing a performance every now and again. 

I look over at Thorin who doesn't seem to be at all affected by the music. It's a nuisance to him, if anything. He scribbles on what looks like an old worn map. He makes me so angry. 

I've been trying to think about all the bad things Rowan did so I won't get upset. He did kill families not by his own device but still he was able to do it. He wasn’t a good person. 

I sit comfortably in my drunken haze swaying to the music when I feel Bofur pick me up and spin me around. I let out a shriek and laugh as Fili and Ori continue to play. Bofur sets me down and begins dancing. I'm so dizzy I have to close my eyes.

"Come on now, lass. Judging by those hips I'm sure you're a fine dancer!" he says. I want to be offended but I'm not. Bofur is drunk, plus it's just his sense of humor.

I start moving. While I do have a womanly figure I am in no way graceful. I don't know if this is more awkward for me or the dwarves to watch. 

Bofur takes my hands. "Just feel the music and follow me," he says. Fili laughs and I shoot him a look. Letting go isn't easy for me, even when I'm intoxicated. 

Bofur’s smile gives me confidence, though. I close my eyes and try to feel the music like he instructed. I slowly stop thinking about everything and start to move. I hear them laughing and clapping as I dance. Bofur grabs my hands and we dance around the fire. My mind is spinning. This is the most fun I've had since I got here.

The music, the laughter, and the ale evolve into a joyful spinning that I can't control. I put my arms over my head and swirl around the fire. But in the midst of the dancing I bump into something hard. My sudden wide eyes are met by the sad blue ones of Thorin Oakenshield.

The music stops.

I'm pushed off my cloud and in an instant filled with anger. Why is he just standing there staring at me?

“What?” I ask, not sure if I said it out loud at first. Maybe I didn't because he doesn't answer. That only makes me angrier. “Why are you staring at me? You always stare!” Still nothing...”Oh, am I not deserving enough to get a response from the prince?” Dwalin wakes up now. The others watch the scene. I don't look away from Thorin. Stubbornness has always been my main flaw and I'll be dammed if I'm the first to look away. Unfortunately I think he feels the same. His gaze burns through me.

“Smug bastard. You think you're so high and mighty. You claim to have a great hunter in your company and look! Where are Kili and my sister? Are they back yet? No!”

“Thorin, she's been drinking,” Bofur says in a diffusing tone. I know he's trying to help but it's too late. Thinking of Freya makes me emotional.

“Let me go find her. I'm no threat and you know it. I won't ever cross paths with you again. If I do it’ll be purely accidental. Just let me go and find my sister and we'll go home.” I mean it, too. I'll convince Freya we have to go. Maybe we can move. We’ll figure some way of avoiding the Dark Lord's wrath, right?

He still doesn't speak and I can't read his eyes. They always look sad and full of judgment. The lack of words drives me crazy. “Say something!”

“You have been treated with the respect that no prisoner of mine has ever received,” he finally says. I forgot how deep his voice is. “It has led you to forget your place. That will not happen again.” He turns to Dwalin. “Tie her up by the tree and leave a blanket. She will sleep there tonight.” He breaks eye contact and begins walking away. All I see is red and I shove him. He turns with great speed and grabs the collar of my jacket with both hands.

“Do not touch me,” he says with a rasp. He lets go but my jacket still sticks out from how hard he clenched the material. He walks towards the lake.

Dwalin leads me to a tree near the ponies and ties me up. He tosses the blanket on my lap. I expect him to make a snide comment or chuckle at my misfortune but he doesn't. That almost disappoints me. I look at Bofur who is looking back with sorry eyes. I know there's nothing he can do. I'm officially a prisoner now. Thorin Oakenshield always gets his way.

***

I'm not sure how much time has passed since I've been sitting here. The fire is long gone and everyone is asleep. No one's up to watch me. They know I can't escape. My eyes are now used to the darkness. I can't fall asleep. I'm sitting up against a bumpy hard tree and the blanket that his highness was kind enough to bestow upon me is not enough to keep the cold at bay. Coming out of my drunken state I start to think about the events of the night. Unfortunately I remember it all. I really was treated well for a prisoner. Why did I choose now to start speaking my mind? Why couldn't I just stay quiet and keep my thoughts to myself like the last nineteen years? 

Maybe tomorrow I should apologize to him. Ugh...just thinking about uttering the word sorry to him makes me feel sick.

I hear a rustle in the bushes nearby. It startles me at first but I figure it's just an animal and think nothing of it. I'm too tired to be scared.

I hear it again...closer this time.

Now my heart starts racing. What if it's not a harmless animal? How am I supposed to defend myself? I have no weapon and I'm tied up. The perfect meal for whatever predator is lurking about. I hear it again and just as I'm about to yell for Fili I hear a voice.

“Celia.” It's more like a whisper. I can't see who said my name. I can barely turn my head.

“Who said that?” I whisper back. I know it's not Freya because this mystery night owl had a male voice. Oh god, please don't let it be Rabastan. Footsteps approach and a figure appears in front of me. The man kneels down. It's not Rabastan, but it is a fellow Death   
Eater. Walden Macnair. He had gotten away during the fight a few nights ago.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. “Have you seen Freya?”

“No,” he says. “I haven't seen anyone. I tried to find my way out of the forest but couldn't. I thought I was done for until I saw you guys in the distance. I almost attacked but then I saw you so I waited. Let's get you untied and kill them!” he says with a grin. While I would love to get these itchy ropes off me, I think of Bofur, Ori, and even Fili. They've been kind to me. I consider Bofur my friend. I can't kill them. I need to think of something quick.

“No!” I say before thinking.

Walden stops fiddling with the ropes and looks at me, confused.

“I have a pla,” I say, trying to sound as convincing as possible. I have his full attention. “We're almost out of the forest. They told me. So I was thinking when we get close to the next town, that's when I was going to attack or run until I find Freya. It'd be easier if we're not in the forest. They're our only way out of here.”  
“You were going to fight them all by yourself? How?” he asks, not needing an answer. “I don't want to get away, Celia. I want revenge.” Of course he does. He’s Death Eater. “Come on, let's just kill the now! It'll be such fun!” he exclaims, starting to untie me again.

“No! Wait!” I say. He stops. “Tomorrow.”

“Why tomorrow?” he asks.

“Because that's when the hunter dwarf is returning with Freya,” I lie.”I don’t want to do anything risky until she's here. We have a better chance of finding the stone with her.”

He considers this fake plan of mine and with luck, agrees. He likes Freya, and I use it to my advantage.

“I’ll tell her that you tried to save me tonight.” I smile.

He smiles back. “I'll stay close and tomorrow we'll do it. We'll get our revenge,” he says. “Oh, almost forgot.” He holds out a wand. I recognize it. It was Evan's. “I grabbed it before I ran. Keep it safe. Until tomorrow,” he finishes with an unwanted kiss to my forehead and vanishes into the darkness.

I tuck the wand in my boot. Tomorrow. I have until then to come up with a plan, a better plan to save my new friends. I look to the lake and see a hint of early morning light. Is it already here?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAHHHH!!!!! It has been WAY too long since we've updated! We love and appreciate all your I-NEED-MORE comments; they're basically what motivated us to keep writing, so thank you! Work and the holidays kept us too busy to focus for long, BUT AT LONG LAST WE HAVE A NEW CHAPTER. 
> 
> We've also made it our New Year's resolution to update more frequently since we're completely obsessed with writing this story again.
> 
> In this chapter, the song Celia sings is called Sleep Song by Secret Garden. You can find it on Youtube.
> 
> ENJOY!

**FREYA**

I don’t know how much farther we have to walk. Kili hasn’t told me anything. He’s just been walking ten steps ahead of me for hours. I wish I had my broomstick. I wish we could apparate. Hell, I even wish I had a muggle car. At least that way I wouldn’t have to walk anymore. My legs are on autopilot. They stopped being sore and started going numb about three hours ago. Kili must be getting tired, too. He’s slowed down a bit and he’s dragging his feet. I don’t remember the last time I saw him sleep.  
I eventually catch up to him without increasing my pace at all. 

“Hey, you okay?” I ask him. No response. He doesn’t even look at me. He looks dead. His eyes are glossed over and there’s a permanent furrow in his brow. “Kili?” I try again. This time he stops walking. I wait for him to say something. He lowers his face into his hand and rubs his eyes.

“I need to sleep,” he finally says, a certain raspiness to his voice that accompanies sleep deprivation. 

“We can stop,” I offer. “I could use a break, too.”

“No, we need to keep going. I’m just being stupid,” he grumbles. 

“Look at you. You’re about to pass out,” I say. “Stupid would be continuing. We need to stop and you need to sleep.”

Kili just stands there. He sways a bit. For a moment I think he’s about to keel over so I hold my arms out to catch him, but he stays upright. Damn stubborn dwarf. He’s about to die from lack of sleep and he wants to keep going?

“Maybe just a quick nap,” he says as he slowly lowers himself to the ground. 

“Not here in the middle of the path!” I protest, but the moment his eyes close he’s unconscious. “Kili!” I nudge him with my boot. He’s out cold. “God damn it,” I say, looking around for a better place to rest. I notice a small flat area just above our path. The hard part will be dragging his limp body up there. I hook my arms under his shoulders and hoist him up, nearly breaking my back in the process. It takes a good ten minutes, but I finally manage to get him up to the flat ground. It’s almost like a small campsite and it’s out of the way enough for us not to be seen by anyone passing by on the path below. 

The rain stopped about an hour ago and the sun is starting to peek through the thinning clouds. It warms my face. I shed my heavy coat and ball it up before tucking it under Kili’s head. I make sure it’s inside out so the mud caked on the outside doesn’t dirty his face. I just look at him, perhaps a bit too long, but he doesn’t have to know. Even in his sleep he’s scowling. I’d like to see him smile just once. I’m sure he has a lovely smile. One of those that you can’t bring yourself to look away from because the happiness it radiates is contagious. I love those kinds of smiles. They make me forget about all the horrible things I’ve done, if only for a moment. Luckily I don’t get a chance to meditate on the kind of person I’ve become, as I’ve started dozing off. I was so busy being grumpy about how long we’ve been walking that I didn’t realize I was almost as tired as Kili. 

***

I wake up in the dark. There’s a split second before I open my eyes that I forget where I am. But then I remember everything and that split second is gone. It was nice while it lasted, though. The sky is completely clear now. Instead of clouds, there’s a blanket of twinkling stars scattered across the blackness. They’re so far away but I feel like I could reach out and touch them. I hear a grunt and look to its source. Kili’s still fast asleep as he stretches and rolls over to face me. I must not have been asleep that long; probably only a few hours. 

I’m a bit cold, but my coat is still tucked away under Kili’s head. I sit up and wrap my arms around my knees in an effort to conserve my body heat. It’s not that bad, but I don’t want to start shivering. I hate being cold. I look around for something to build a fire with. There’s only dust and rocks and a few dead leaves. I pile the leaves and a few rocks in front of me and pull out my wand. 

_“Incendio,”_ I whisper, and the little pile bursts into flame. It remains a relatively small campfire, but it’s enough to warm my hands and keep the cold at bay. I try to ignore my hunger. There are so many weaknesses hindering my success. Hunger. Exhaustion. Unfamiliarity with this whole world. I’ve had quite enough of the helplessness. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, even if I have no idea where I am or where I’m going. I’ve been lost before. I found my way out of the woods after being lost there for two days when I was four. My parents didn’t come looking for me because they thought it would help build character. They also used me as an example to teach Celia a lesson about wandering off alone. 

“Freya!” Kili’s voice yanks me from my thoughts. He’s wide awake and tossing handfuls of earth onto the small fire. “Are you trying to get us killed?”

“It’s just a fire!” I retort, unable to imagine why he’d rather freeze to death. 

“Its light can be seen for miles,” he says as he smothers the last of the flames. “It’s not safe out here.” I remember the things that almost killed us before, the Orcs, and I suddenly acknowledge Kili’s logic. But I have my wand and it’s never let me down. I grip it tightly, but I keep it by my side.

“I’m perfectly capable of protecting myself. And you,” I reply, indignation lacing my voice.

“You have no idea what’s out there,” he shoots back. “You wouldn’t stand a chance.”

If there’s one thing I hate most in the world, it’s being told what I can and can’t do. I raise my wand, and with an enunciated _“Incendio,”_ I relight the fire, my glare remaining fixed on the dwarf, but he just stomps it out with his boot. 

“Why are you so paranoid?” I demand.

“Why are you so stubborn?” he answers. 

“I’m not stubborn, I’m cold and my clothes are still wet and I’d rather live to see tomorrow.”

“You won’t live two minutes if you attract the wrong attention.”

“I may have no idea what’s out there, but you have no idea what this can do.” I hold up my wand. Kili doesn’t even glance at it. 

“No fires,” he says flatly and lays back down.

“Then I want my coat back.”

Without protest, Kili lifts his head and throws my coat at me. A sleeve smacks me square in the face, its button nearly blinding me, but I keep my composure. I wrap the coat around my shoulders. It’s still warm from Kili laying on it. It’s comforting and vomit-inducing at the same time. 

I can feel Kili’s glare, but I ignore him. After a long silence he asks, “What _can_ that thing do?” There’s a hint of disbelief and sarcasm in his tone. 

“Anything,” I reply tersely. 

“Anything,” he echoes, this time sounding completely incredulous. 

“Well, _almost_ anything,” I correct myself. If it could do anything I wouldn’t be stuck on a stupid mountain with a stupid dwarf. 

“I figured as much,” he smirks. “If it could do anything you wouldn’t be here, would you?” he asks, echoing my thoughts exactly. 

“Definitely not,” I say. For a moment I swear I can see a hint of a smile on the dwarf’s face. “So have you slept enough now or are we going to sit around in the dark for a few more hours?”

Kili pulls himself upright, stretching his muscles. “I suppose since you’re in such a hurry we can keep going. We don’t have much further to go anyway.”

“Thank god,” I breathe. I’ve never walked so much in my life. It’s not something I ever plan on doing again. 

***

By the time dawn breaks we’re on a narrow mountain path with nothing but a hundred foot drop to one side and a wall of rocks to the other. We round one corner, then another, then we finally enter a beautiful valley, at the center of which is what I assume to be Rivendell.

“Is that it?” I ask, trying to mask the awe in my voice. 

“Yes,” Kili says with absolutely no enthusiasm. “If Thorin and the others are here, that means your sister is, too.”

I barely give him a chance to finish his sentence before taking off toward the town, nearly sending Kili plummeting to his death as I push past him. 

“Freya!” he calls as he hurries after me. “Slow down!”

Why the bloody hell would I slow down when I’m this close to finding Celia? The dwarf must be demented. I get my answer when I’m suddenly surrounded by tall men with long hair and dangerous weapons all aimed at me. There’s no use reaching for my wand. The blond one’s arrow would pierce my skull before my hand moved an inch.

“Wait!” I hear Kili catch up behind me, but he isn’t talking to me anymore. “Don’t harm her!” He stands in front of me protectively, which for some reason annoys me. “We’re with the company of Thorin Oakenshield. Are they here?” 

“No,” one of the men answers flatly. I feel my heart drop. Where the hell is Celia?

“Then they’ll be here soon. Thorin wishes to speak with Elrond. We’ve had a long journey and seek shelter,” Kili pleads. 

“Very well,” the blond one consents. 

We’re led to what I imagine is the place where the king or the mayor or whatever leader they have lives. The ceilings and doorways are unusually high to allow the tall ones, who I now know are the elves, to pass through comfortably. I suddenly remember what it was like to be a small child, unable to reach anything. The elves themselves are otherworldly. They carry themselves with a sort of ethereal grace that reminds me of the Grey Lady back at Hogwarts, yet minutes ago they were a threat to my life.

We’re told to sit and wait in a spacious room whose balcony offers the most breathtaking view I’ve ever seen. The whole valley is lush and green, a stark contrast to the vast desolation we spent the last day and night trekking through. I’m so taken with this place that I almost forget why we’re here. 

“When will the others get here with my sister?” I ask a disgruntled Kili. He’s clearly a lot less fascinated by this place than I am. 

“Soon,” he grumbles. “I expect they’re not far behind.”

“How did you even know they were coming here?” I ask. 

“Well,” he explains, “Thorin knows nothing of you and your companions, so the only logical thing to do would be to seek answers from Elrond, the king of the elves. This is where he lives.”

“Did you ever think of asking us for that information instead of some king who’s never met us before?”

“I tried that, remember? Then you said no more questions,” Kili says. 

I let out a deep frustrated sigh. “Alright, fine,” I huff, turning away from the valley and leaning against the balcony’s railing. “You can ask, but don’t expect any detailed answers.”

I’m met with a look of surprise from Kili, but he doesn’t waste a breath. “Where did you come from?” he asks immediately. I try very hard not to roll my eyes. I truly have no idea how to answer that question. He watches me expectantly, probably awaiting a revealing truth that will tell him all he needs to know. But how am I supposed to explain London to someone from Middle Earth? I consider for a moment telling him the complete truth, but I can’t figure out how to describe it in a way that will make him understand. 

“It’s hard to explain,” I say. 

“Try me,” he replies, keeping his eyes locked on me. 

I exhale, trying to gather my thoughts. “It’s not like here,” I start. “There are more men than elves and other such things. Our towns and cities are more numerous and more crowded. Men without magic, muggles, are full of greed and corruption. It’s up to wizards and witches like me to restore the proper order. I live in a city called London. It’s beautiful and I miss it terribly.” I look down, a sudden feeling of disconnection from my home clouding my mind. How much longer do I have to stay here?

“I see,” Kili says, accepting what I’ve told him. “And who are the others in your company? Your friends?”

I almost laugh at the sentiment. “Some of them, I suppose. We’re all followers of a great wizard called Voldemort. He’s leading us in our battle against muggles and blood traitors. We were sent here together at his command,” I explain.

Kili nods, then turns to face me, one arm leaning against the railing. “So far so good,” he says. “I have one more question, and it will do you no good to answer with anything but the truth,” a serious weight falling in his tone. “Why are you here?”

“I’m looking for something,” I answer. Technically, it’s not a lie. 

“And what is that?” he continues.

“Something my lord wants,” I say, trying to avoid looking at him, but it’s difficult.

“Omitting the truth is the same as lying, Freya,” he says.

“I can’t tell you.” I look down. I do want to tell him, but it’s a terrible idea.

“Why not?” he asks.

“Because you’ll try to stop me.”

He straightens up at this. “Then it must be something we don’t want taken.”

“My quarrel is not with you,” I reply. “You obviously don’t have it.”

“Let me guess. Your powers of deduction have led you to that conclusion because of our lack of guard and protection?” He’s mocking me now. 

“Why else wouldn’t you have something so valuable?” I return.

“You really think we don’t have it?”

“It’s impossible.”

“You doubt us.” His tone is starting to lighten. 

“I doubt the inability of others to take it from you.”

“Would you have taken it from us? Would you have killed us for it?”

“I wouldn’t have killed you. I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“I’m not a killer.” I’ve never told such a blatant lie with such ease before. I’m mildly proud of myself.

“Just a thief and a liar,” he says passively. 

“I told you the truth,” I lie again.

“Only some of it.”

“What I could.”

“And you don’t deny being a thief.”

“I’m here to take something that doesn’t belong to me. What else would that make me?”

“Severely misguided?”

This takes me by surprise. I was starting to think he agreed with me. 

“Do you always think the best of people?” I ask?

“Well, I don’t think you’re evil,” he replies. 

I decide to leave it at that. I don’t want him to change his mind any time soon. 

“How long do we have to wait?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

“They should be here by tonight,” he replies. “Tomorrow morning at the latest.”

I turn back to the valley, resting my elbows on the hard stone railing. I just need to find Celia and the others. 

I’m about to say something else when I’m interrupted by two elves entering our room like they’ve got a bone to pick.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

**CELIA**

I don’t know how long ago Walden disappeared back into the darkness. I have left this world and have been living in my mind only, trying to think of something, anything, to stop this inevitable meeting. I keep reaching for the wand in my boot, hoping not to find it there, hoping it was just a nightmare. But when my fingers find their way into my boot and I feel the smoothness of Evan’s wand, my heart sinks with the truth of the situation I’m in. Perhaps I could take this opportunity to escape the hands of the dwarves to find Freya and together search for and retrieve what we came here for. 

A loud snort from one of the dwarves, probably Dwalin, pulls me out of my thoughts of escape, my focus now on them, these men we encountered on our quest. They welcomed us Death Eaters into their camp with open arms and hearts, ready to share food and stories. Even after everything that’s happened, I was still treated well, not like a prisoner at all. I’ve seen how prisoners of the Dark Lord were treated, all that is good sucked out of them with a single Dementor’s kiss, their souls gone from their bodies. Still alive, but no life inside. As much as I hate to say it, Thorin was right. I have been treated well for my current rank. 

Sober and aware, I now understand why he punished me. I disrespected a prince in front of his company and family, a company whom I would now consider friends. Well, maybe not Dwalin, but Fili, Ori, and especially Bofur. Is my escape worth putting their lives at risk? Are their lives more important than my sister’s? Whose side am I on?   
So deep in thought, I barely notice the moving figure by the glistening lake. I can’t tell who it is. All I see is shadow. The longer I stare, the more of a silhouette I can make out. Thick, wavy hair that ends mid back, and a prominent regal nose which points in the direction that the sun will rise. It’s unmistakably Thorin. 

He runs his hand through his black locks. The bits of grey shine in the moonlight. I watch him closely. He looks like he’s trying to shake off another nightmare. It’s strange seeing a presence so certain and strong now vulnerable and unsure. 

The prince takes one last look at the starry sky before slugging back to camp. I pretend I’m asleep, leaving one eye slightly open. I know he can’t see if they’re open or closed, but I don’t dare let him catch me staring. 

Instead of reentering the tent, he changes his direction and walks over to me. I quickly shut my half open eye and try to breath at a sleeper’s pace. I listen to the leaves crunch underneath his steps. He stops right at my feet. I concentrate hard on my breathing now, trying to make my fake slumber believable. Him being so close doesn’t make feel uneasy. I’m not afraid. I don’t feel like he’s going to hurt me and yet my heart is beating with such speed it might break my ribs. _What is he doing?_ I want so badly to open my eyes but I don’t dare. Even with the unknown in front of me, I feel safe with him near. Just as I’m becoming used to him there, I hear the crunch of the leaves once more, and off he goes, back into his tent. 

Only now do I realize it’s very likely that Walden saw the whole scene. The safeness Thorin left with me leaves my body and I use the same façade on Walden. Sleep. I lay there against the uncomfortable trunk of an old Mirkwood tree and try to sleep. 

***

_Fireside. I watch the flames dance in his blue eyes. We stand so close. I’m breathing in the air he exhales. He gently holds my face in his strong hands. I no longer see sadness in him, but desire. My silent plea is heard and he moves closer. I close my eyes, waiting, longing for his lips to touch mine. I wait… I wait…_

I open my eyes, but instead of seeing _him_ I’m blinded by sudden brightness. I was only dreaming. My throat is dry. I swallow the little bit of saliva I have to relieve the roughness. It works for a few moments. I ready myself to stand, but my body goes nowhere. How did I forget I was tied up? All of last night’s events flood my mind. I must warn the others. I look over at the campsite, only to find that it’s been packed up. 

“Bofur?” I yell. I cough, easing the pain in my throat. They wouldn’t just leave me here. “Bofur!” I try again. “Fili!” I struggle to free myself from the ropes, but their hold is strong. I almost yell for Walden, when Dwalin appears from the other side of the tree, his scowl ever so intimidating. I scoot away from him as much as I can, but my back is against the tree. Nowhere to go. 

“No, then,” he sharply breaks the silence. “Our prisoner has woken up!” he shouts in a direction that I can’t see. He pulls a knife from his pocket and cuts the itchy ropes from my wrists and waist. Bright red scratches cover my skin. Dwalin grabs me by the arm and pulls me along, his grip tight. As we round the tree, I see all of the dwarves eating their morning stew. I was yelling for them like an idiot and they were right here? Why didn’t they respond? Bofur and Fili look down at their bowls. Ori lets a small smile escape his lips. The thick scent of beans and pork fill the air. How I wish I could have just one spoonful. Something to put my throat at ease.

Dwalin takes Bow’s reins and ties horrible ropes to them. He grabs my wrists right where my skin is most sensitive and I instinctively pull away. Dwalin grabs my shoulders right on my wound.

“Hold still.” 

I pull away. “Ow!” I cry, gripping my shoulder. The wound is still fresh and Dwalin’s hard touch made it bleed a little. 

“Dwalin!” Thorin shouts. I turn away, embarrassed of my inability to hold in my tears. I know all eyes are on me. Thorin marches over to us, my back to him. I clutch my shoulder, scared of what’s to come. “Bofur!” I hear Thorin call. A quick rustling of a bag and an obedient Bofur is right in front of me, clean bandages in hand. His genuine smile puts me at ease.

He begins to unravel the bandages, but stops when Thorin walks around me, now face to face we stand. Our eyes meet and I look away quickly, partly because I don’t want him to see my swollen eyes, but also because I just remembered my dream and for some reason I feel like looking away will conceal my flushed cheeks. 

To my surprise, Thorin takes the bandages from Bofur and continues to unravel them himself. Sensing his stare, Thorin looks over his shoulder at Bofur, who takes the hint and leaves. 

“Hold still,” Thorin instructs me, power and sincerity entwined in his tone. I do as I’m told. I slowly remove my hand from my injury. He gently removes the blood stained bandages and tosses them. I watch them fall onto the dirt. With ease he tears the new ones in half. A slight grunt escapes his lips. Carefully, he places the strips on my injury and I pull my shirt back over my shoulder. 

“Kili is loyal, but he does not always listen. I know no harm will come to your sister when he finds her, nor upon their return.” His words cause more tears. I keep my eyes on the ground so as not to let him see. 

“Thank you,” I manage. After a brief, silent pause he walks away.

“Tie her to Fili’s horse. We’re moving out,” he instructs. Dwalin takes my wrists carefully this time and ties me to Bow’s reins. I don’t protest. He joins the others in gathering their belongings for the long day’s trek. 

I hear a rustle in the bushes. I know Walden is near. 

We’ve been walking for about an hour when Fili announces the clearing is just ahead. Seven more miles. We’ll be out of Mirkwood soon. My stomach drops at the thought. I don’t have much time before I must make my decision and take a side.

“Halt!” Thorin grumbles, dismounting his pony. “We’ll rest here for a few moments. Fili, the map.” He holds out his ring covered hand. After Fili dismounts, he reaches into a light brown leather flap and pulls out a map that looks identical to the one I had at the start of our quest. Still tied to Bow, I can’t sit with the others. So, hoping she’s strong enough, I test my weight and lean against her.

“Thirsty?” I hear a kind voice ask. Bofur holds out a wooden cup of water for me. I drink it ravenously. He refills it and holds out another. 

“Thank you,” I say after gulping down the last drop. Refreshed, I lean against Bow with more confidence this time and enjoy the first breeze I’ve felt in a while. We really are getting close to the edge of Mirkwood. I close my eyes. The chatter of the dwarves comforts me as I rest, but that is shortlived.

_“Petrificus totalus!”_ Walden shrieks, emerging from the thick bushes nearby. My eyes shoot open and what I feared has happened. Thorin, Dwalin, Fili, Bofur, and Ori are completely still, paralyzed, and well aware of it. 

“Walden!” I exclaim, not in a happy tone, but that’s how he takes it. 

“Celia!” he hugs me and unties me from Bow. “Look what they’ve done to you!” he says, examining my wrists. “And this!” He sees my shoulder and reaches for it. Now free of the ropes, I pull away. He looks offended.

“Sorry, it just hurts,” I say, trying to defuse any of the wrath he may have just been about to direct at me. “I’m glad you’re okay,” I lie. “Come on.” I grab his hand. “Let’s go get Freya.”

“Not just yet, Celia darling,” he hisses. 

“What?” I say, playing dumb. “We’re free to go. They’re frozen. Just leave them here. We must find Freya.”

“We will,” he says. “But first… _Finite!”_ he shouts. Ori comes out of his temporary paralysis and drops to the ground, gasping for air. “Get up.” Walden waltzes over to him.   
“Celia,” he says, eyeing my boot. 

I pull out Evan’s wand. 

“What is your name?” Walden asks. Ori looks petrified. He doesn’t answer. “What is your name?!” Walden yells this time. 

“Ori,” he answers, politeness still dancing in his voice. I don’t like where this is going.

“Ori?” Walden laughs. “What is the greatest amount of pain you’ve ever felt?”

The confused expression Ori wears just makes Walden laugh harder.

“Walden, let’s just go,” I try. No luck. 

“Hm? Perhaps a splint shin? A gash from shaving?” he teases. 

Ori stutters, not knowing what to say. 

“Walden, you’ve had your fun. Let’s go,” I plead. 

“I haven’t had my fun yet. _Crucio!”_ Walden screeches, sending Ori into a fit on the forest floor. 

“No!” I yell, running over to Ori. _“Expelliarmus!”_ I send Walden’s wand flying from his hand. Ori lays still. I kneel on the ground next to him. “Ori?” I gently touch his face.   
“I’m so sorry.”

Walden returns with his wand, pointing it at me.

“Celia, what are you doing?” he chuckles. “These mongrels held you captive. They went after your sister. They killed one of us!” 

I take in what he says, but I know he’s wrong. I summon every ounce of courage I have. “I’m not one of you.”

He stands there, not saying anything. _“Crucio!”_ Again, Ori writhes on the forest floor in agony. 

“Stop!” I yell. 

“I knew you were weak. You’re a disgrace to the Dark Mark. To your family. Your parents are ashamed to call you their own. So is Freya. She told me herself.”

“She wouldn’t say that!” I yell over my tears. “She would never say that!”

_”Finite!”_ he shouts again. Out comes Thorin Oakenshield from his paralysis. Ori’s still yelling in pain. “The dwarf prince,” Walden says, bowing. “How the mighty have fallen.” He points his wand to Thorin who’s on his knees trying to regain his strength. I step in front of him, holding my wand tight. 

“Walden, don’t,” I beg. I see him take a large breath and get his wand ready. 

I know the spell he’s about to use but I get to it first.

My hearing is muffled. A blinding flash of green light shoots out of my wand. I feel like I’m in a tornado. My hair blows in all directions. It seems to last for minutes. The green illumination vanishes as quickly as it came. The forest is eerily still. A deafening quiet.

Ori’s squirming has stopped. He just lies there, staring up at the trees. The rest of the company have come out of their paralysis. 

I feel movement underneath me and realize I fell backwards onto Thorin. He clutches me tight. “Are you alright?” he asks with a soft, concerned voice. Even still, it startles me and I quickly get up, now facing him, wand pointed at his chest. No one moves, not even Thorin. I look right at him and can see in his eyes that he knows I won’t harm him. I feel tears coming that I know I can’t stop this time. I start to walk backwards, keeping my wand pointed at him. Once I’ve reached a good distance, I turn and run as fast as I can. I run past Walden’s lifeless body. Into the trees I go, running. Faster, faster, faster. 

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

**FREYA**

“Where’s my sister?” I demand without thinking. The two elves barely spare me a glance. It seems their business is with Kili. 

“Your company has been spotted,” the brunette one says to Kili. 

“Where?” Kili asks.

“Mirkwood,” the black haired elf answers. 

“Did they have a girl with them?” I ask. 

“No.”

“Are you sure? Did you make absolutely sure?” I insist, my desperation rising.

“Lass, we don’t concern ourselves with lost outsiders,” the black haired one says. “And you can rest assured, there were no females in that group.”

I turn to Kili. “You said she was with them! You said they’d be here!” I have to send the blame somewhere, even though I know this is in no way his fault. 

“There must be some mistake,” Kili says. 

“My sister should be with Thorin Oakenshield,” I add. “She must have wandered off from the group or something.”

The black haired elf is starting to grow impatient. “She isn’t there,” he snaps. “If anyone else was nearby, we would have known.”

“If she’s not with them, where is she? This is your land, isn’t it?” I challenge, the volume of my voice rising.

“She’s your sister,” the elf retorts. “Perhaps you should have kept a closer eye on her.”

“Are you suggesting this is my fault?”

The elf steps closer and bends down, his face just inches from mine. “We’re not the ones who lost her.”

Kili steps in front of me, one hand on the elf’s shoulder to keep him from coming closer. The elf grabs Kili’s wrist.

“Do not touch me,” the elf sneers. His white-knuckle grip on Kili looks like it’s about to break his bones. I rip my wand from my coat and hold it just in front of the elf’s nose. He releases Kili and straightens up, his eyes remaining locked on my wand. 

“And what do you expect to do with that?” he asks.

I’ve had enough. My frustration is starting to get the better of me. I can feel anger bubbling up in my chest, but I don’t want to make a scene and risk my chances of getting out of Rivendell and finding Celia and the others. Too many obstacles have already fallen in the way of a simple task. If only one or two of us had been sent, we probably would have been home by now. Instead I’m trapped in a land with the most unpleasant creatures I’ve ever come across. 

The room is still. Nobody moves as they wait to see if my wand will actually do me any good or if it is just a stick I thought would somehow help me. The smug look crossing the black haired elf’s face makes me want to choke him.

_“Confundo,”_ I mutter.

“Freya,” Kili whispers over his shoulder through gritted teeth. “Don’t.”

“What have you done to him?” the brunette elf barks at me. His friend is wandering around the room aimlessly like he has no idea where he is. It seems to be taking all of Kili’s energy for him to keep from laughing at the sight. An amused smile escapes from him and it does not sit well with the other elf. 

“What have you done?!” he bellows. He moves his hand to the handle of his sword. 

“I think we should go,” Kili mutters and starts to pull me to the door, but the elf cuts us off. 

He draws his sword, and with a wave of my wand it’s flying across the room as Kili and I take off down the hallway.

“Where are we going?” I shout as Kili leads us this way and that and I knock countless elves out of the way with a repelling charm when they try to stop us.

“Anywhere but here!” he shouts back.

Finally we’re outside on the narrow path leading back into the mountains. We stop to catch our breath. Kili is laughing hysterically and it takes me a moment to realize that I am, too. I’m doubled over in a fit of laughter, in fact, and I can’t seem to figure out what’s so funny. All I know is that this is the best feeling I’ve felt since I landed here.

By the time I’ve started breathing normally again I’ve remembered why I was so angry before.

“What are we going to do about Celia?” I ask, surprising myself at my use of the word _we._ I guess I’ve come to accept that Kili isn’t going anywhere. 

“We need to find Thorin. He’ll know where she is,” he says as we continue out of Rivendell. 

“Shouldn’t we wait for them here?”

“I don’t think we’re welcome here anymore,” he replies, a little amused. “And I expect Thorin and the others will have to learn that the hard way.”  
“Sorry,” I say. “That’s my fault. I don’t have the best control over my temper.”

“I won’t argue with you on that,” he chuckles. My eyes snap to his, searching for that smile I’ve been waiting to see. I was too caught up in my own laughter to pay any attention before. It’s only a half smile, but it’s good enough. Even the tiniest sign of happiness can boost my mood.

We continue along the narrow path through the mountains and back towards the forest. It’s already dark and I hope we find Thorin and Celia before we reach the trees.

“Isn’t there some way that stick of yours can help you find your sister?” Kili asks.

“No,” I reply. “Our magic is limited here.” And then I remember something. “But I could make a signal!”

“What kind of signal?” he asks skeptically.

“A signal in the sky!”

Kili shakes his head. “That would be worse than the fire. Something in the sky would certainly attract the wrong attention.”

“Look around, Kili,” I argue, motioning at the desolate view below us and the trees of Mirkwood now visible on the horizon. “How will we ever find them here?”

“I’m more worried about what will find us,” he protests.

I figure now would be a good opportunity for a magical demonstration. 

“Bombarda maxima!” The boulder I cast the spell at explodes into thousands of tiny rocks. Kili jumps at the sudden burst. “I think we’ll be alright,” I reassure him. I take his stunned silence as consent and raise my wand toward the sky.

_“Periculum!”_ A stream of red sparks shoots up into the air and spreads like a firework. I stare at the dim lights as they fall, but the answering roar in the distance is not the sound I was hoping to hear.

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**CELIA**

My legs are numb but I keep going. The sweat coming out of every pore is instantly cooled by the wind pushing against my face. I don’t dare stop. I don’t look behind me. I must keep running. The more I run the more free I feel. I’m getting farther and farther away from what I’ve done. A new world is all that lies ahead. It’s these thoughts that keep me going, but it’s also these thoughts that distract me. I lose my footing and trip over a root. I fall hard and fast. I don’t have time to put my hands out in front of me, so I go down face first. The sudden stop makes me dizzy. I feel like I ran into a brick wall. I can’t stop. I have to get away. I put my hands flat on the ground and try to lift myself, but my arms give out and I collapse. I’m too weak to get up, so there I stay. 

The cool ground feels good against my face which is drenched with sweat. My body’s still pumping with adrenaline, so I can’t tell if I have any serious injuries. If my leg was broken I wouldn’t feel any pain, nor would I care. I need sleep. The world around me begins to go dark and i fade away. 

_CROAK!_ My eyes shoot open, expecting to see the culprit of the obnoxious sound, but instead I’m met with darkness, a darkness that does not exist in my world.   
I quickly stand. My body is sore but well rested enough to move. Another _CROAK._ The noise echoes throughout the woods, making it seem like it’s coming from all directions. I reach down in my boot for Evan’s wand. It’s not there. I fall back to the ground on hands and knees, feeling for it. The brittle leaves scratch my hand as I rummage through them. I carefully feel all sticks and branches for the unmistakable crooked curve the wand displays. At last! As soon as my hands touch it I mutter, _“Lumos!”_ and I’m no longer alone in the darkness. The sweet golden light puts me at ease, but soon becomes blurry as tears well up in my already puffy eyes. 

I’ve become the thing I despise. A murderer. A Death Eater. I replay Walden’s death in my mind over and over. I want to scream, somehow hoping that will take the memory away forever. I imagine myself as a little girl playing with my dolls in the back yard on a sunny afternoon, my mind allowed to roam free with thoughts of love and adventure, just like in my books. What would that child think of me, of her future self? The unsaid answer only makes me cry harder. Thoughts come and go in my fit of hysterics. Like Ori. I’ve seen the Cruciatus Curse used once, though I’ve never felt it myself. Some people never come out of it the same. I hope he still has the same honest heart and not one blackened by torture. I think of the man with an already tortured soul. Thorin. The man whose life I saved only to turn around and point my weapon at him before running away. I try not to imagine what he must think of me. I push all thoughts of the company of Thorin Oakenshield away forever. I’ll never see them again, so why burden myself with their well-being. It’s too much.

A great fear boils inside me. The Dark Lord. I killed one of his followers. A follower who comes from a family of Death Eaters, and not civilized ones. These people may as well have razor sharp teeth and claws for fingernails. They notoriously murder without good reason. Is it possible Voldemort is aware of what’s happening in this realm? Freya would know what to do. I have to get out of here. I have to find her. 

I pull myself up, Evan’s wand in hand. The light shining from it is dim. This forest, which seems to move on its own, is difficult to navigate in the day, let alone darkness. I keep the light to the ground, looking for any sign of a path. The last I saw of the dwarves, we were only a few miles from the edge of the forest. I’m sure I can figure out how to get there. I just hope I’m going the right way. 

I carefully examine the ground in front of me, making my way over the roots and around the trees, trying to keep going in a straight line. Maybe running from the company wasn’t the best idea. I lost the map and I have no idea how to navigate this place. Thorin did promise Freya’s safety, but it doesn’t matter now. I don’t see how I could ever face them again when all I’ve brought to their world is danger and death. 

_CRACK!_ The noise behind me makes me pick up my pace. I begin to hum so I don’t hear any more unwanted croaks and creaks. It’s a trick Freya taught me when we were younger. Our childhood home was one of the biggest in the Death Eater community, next to the Malfoy and Lestrange manors. Meetings would often be held there. Our parents would entertain downstairs while Freya and I stayed quiet as mice in her room. Mom and dad wanted us sleeping together when that kind of company was over. Those nights always ended with yelling and the house shaking with disagreements and entitlement. In those terrifying moments, all I wanted to do was run into my parents arms, but couldn’t. Freya would tell me to close my eyes and hum, to let whatever melody I decided on take me to another place. There were lots of nights like that so I had lots of opportunities to make up new worlds. All the lands filled with castles, pyramids, quicksand, and pirate ships, I never thought of anything close to Middle Earth, nor have I ever thought of a prince quite like Thorin Oakenshield. All the princes in my books and mind have been happy, heroic men. Thorin has such an obvious sadness that he masks with sternness, but with his long hair and a certain but haunted stride, he displays a much darker handsomeness. 

_CROAK!_ I hum louder and pick up my pace. This tune sounds familiar. Where have I heard it before? It’s the song Bofur, Fili, and Ori played only last night. The song I danced to. I hope I never forget it. I wonder if it has a name. I suppose if it does I’ll never know. I try to make up words in hopes that it’ll help me remember.

_Lay down you head and I’ll sing you a lullaby_  
Back to the years of Loo-Li Lai-Lay  
And I’ll sing you to sleep and I’ll sing you tomorrow  
Bless you with love for the road that you go 

_May you sail far, to the far fields of fortune_  
With diamonds and pearls at your head and your feet  
And may you need never to banish misfortune  
May you find kindness in all that you meet 

_May there always be angels to watch over you_  
To guide you each step of the way  
To guard you and keep you safe from all harm  
Loo-Li Loo-Li Lai-Lay 

_May you bring love and may you bring happiness_  
Be loved in return till the end of your days  
Now fall off to sleep, I’m not meaning to keep you  
I’ll just sit for awhile and sing Loo-Li Lai-Lay  
Loo-Li Loo-Li Lai-Lay 

I shake the image of sad blue eyes out of my head. 

None of where I am looks familiar. “Don’t panic,” I tell myself. I’m claustrophobic and if I start to freak out I’ll never find my way out of here. A small smirk comes across my face and memories dance in my mind of my childhood. During our many games of hide and go seek, I would always find Freya hiding in the same spot. Maybe it’s because I was younger and she’d let me find her more easily so I wouldn’t give up and cry in frustration, as kids who don’t win do. A s soon as I finished counting, I’d run across our lush green back yard. Cloudy skies were never glum to me because growing up in London, sunny days were few and far between. Our house was on a hill so high it felt like I was running through clouds. I’d stop at the biggest tree in our back yard, perfect for climbing, its trunk wide with welcoming branches spread out like a ladder. Every time I looked up there I’d find Freya giggling, waving her feet over the edge. I was always too scared to climb ad tag her, so she always won. 

Here I stand now, underneath a tree, even wider, with less branches, in the darkness. I take a deep breath and ready myself for the challenge ahead. 

I grab the trunk, my arms stretched as wide as they can go, and that doesn’t even cover one side of it. The darkness still covers any visual I’d have of the tree, so I feel around for a branch. I find one and grip my right hand around it, pulling myself up. Luckily I’m able to reach a thicker branch with my left hand. It’s harder to grip because my usually slender fingers are much shorter now as a dwarf. I step up the side and try to wrap my legs around the branch my right hand is grasping. The heavy coat and layers I wear don’t make it easy, but my dancing background helps a bit. In one swift motion, I hoist myself up and get both feet on top of the branch, my hands now gripping the thicker one tight. I let my left hand go into my pocket and grab the wand. 

_“Lumos.”_ I use the light to look up and locate the next available branch. It doesn’t seem too far, but it’s much thinner and doesn’t look too reliable. But it’s my only option. I slide the wand back into my pocket. The sudden loss of light seems to have made the darkness darker. I grab hold of the branch and jump, wrapping my legs around it. Now hanging like a sloth, I hold on for dear life. I’ve never had much upper body strength, but somehow I manage to pull myself on top of it. I use the same tactic with the rest of the tree, stopping and using the light from my wand to give me an idea of where I should take my next step. 

The ordeal takes about forty-five minutes, but I finally make it to the top. I balance myself on the highest branch and stick my head out of the leaves. A light breeze caresses my face. I don’t even need to use _Lumos._ The stars are so bright, they seem to light the treetops, making it look like a mystical clouded world. The feeling you get when you’re standing on the edge of a cliff and you just want to jump off takes over. I want to climb out of the tree and run on the leaves. I want to live in this world of starlight. I look around, taking in the view, momentarily living in my world of pretend, when I see it. The end of the tree line. The way out of Mirkwood. It only looks like three miles or so. I can make it. 

_POP!_ I turn my head and in the distance, red sparks rain like a firework from the sky.

“Freya!” I gleefully shout. That’s her signal! All at once the air is easier to breath and happiness quickens my heart. She’s okay. She’s alive. I reach for the wand in my pocket, but as I do, a terrible sound fills the space below me. 

_SCREEEEEEECH!!_ I freeze. What on this good earth was that? Before I can look down, the ground shakes violently knocking me off the branch and back down in the deep of Mirkwood. Unbelievably I catch myself on a branch. I land right on my stomach. I wouldn’t be surprised if I just broke a rib.

The shaking continues. I’m still pretty high up and have an obstructed view through the leaves. I can’t see anything down there. More shaking. It feels like footsteps. I want to stay and hide up here, but the exit is so close, I convince myself that the darkness of the forest will blanket my presence. I don’t dare use _Lumos,_ so I slowly try to climb down blindly. I find stones on the wide branches. I drop them as a way to judge how far down the ground is. My stomach still hurts from the impact, but I don’t think about it. I keep going. I drop the last stone and it doesn’t take long for it to fall. The bottom isn’t far. I brace myself and leap off the branch, and with a thud I land on the soil. 

I hear another screech behind me and stumble to my feet. I run. It’s hard to keep my sense of direction when every few seconds there’s a small earthquake. The thunderous footsteps seem to be getting closer and I pick up my pace. 

_SCREEECH!!_ I stop short, as the awful sound came from right in front of me. I feel my way around the closest tree and hide behind it, trying to quiet my breathing. The footsteps terrifyingly close now, the shaking is so rough it almost knocks me over. Whatever this beast is, it’s right on the other side of the tree. I circle the trunk, staying opposite of its movements. Once it passes, I make a break for it. I’m so close. 

_Smack!_ I run into something. Something large enough to be a tree, but not as hard. It is soft and smells like meat and feces. I look up and see the giant silhouette of a monster looking down at me. 

“AAHHH!!” I scream and get up, running around its legs. 

“Oi, we’ve got ourselves a live one!” a snot filled voice tells the others. My view becomes distorted as I now have three of these things coming after me. I sense them getting closer. I try and pick up my pace, but I can only go so fast. 

“This way, boys!” I hear another grumble. They’re catching up to me now. My breathing has turned into wheezing. I can’t change directions or I’ll lose the exit again. It feels like I’m in a dream, when you’re running from something but you don’t know what and you’re all too aware that it’s about to get you. I can almost feel the thing’s fingers try to cling to my coat when out of nowhere I’m knocked to the ground. 

“AAH—” My scream is cut short by a hand covering my mouth. The loud clank of swords and swooshes of bows breaking the air takes over the quiet. I try to fight the miscreant off me.

“Celia!” the familiar voice says. “Stop, it’s me!” I try to get a good look. The only thing I can make out is long, braided, blond hair.

“Fili? Oh my god!” 

He pushes himself off me and grabs my hand, helping me up. “It’s about time we found you,” he smirks. “Be quiet and stay here.” He leaves to go join the fight. 

I hear grunting from the ground and the beasts moaning from above. I count five shadow figures. It’s all the dwarves. They came to save me. 

“We can’t hold them off much longer!” I hear an Irish voice yell. Bofur! I want to run and hug him. “We must make it to the field!” he shouts in between cutting the monsters’ legs and trying not to get trampled. “The moonlight will save us!”

After one last slice of a sword, an all too powerful voice makes the call. “Run!” 

I reach for my wand for light. 

“Celia!” Thorin screams, his voice filled with concern. 

“I’m here!” I shout in the darkness. I feel a strong hand grab mine. Electricity runs through my body as we run together, hand in hand. Faster, faster, faster we go. The hand holding mine grips tighter. I can see the clearing. We’re so close. 

“Come on!” Thorin commands. We pick up the pace like the final lap in a race. I suck all energy I have from my body and use it. Rest can come later. 

Suddenly I’m showered in the white light of the full moon. We slow down and turn back towards the forest. I finally get a glimpse of the foul monsters. Trolls? They look just like the ones back home. Ugly, smelly, idiotic creatures. As soon as they run out of the forest, they come to a quick stop. Their bodies make horrible crunching sounds and their skin begins to harden, like it’s turning to stone. 

“It’s a full moon!” the one on the far right shouts. He has a deep scar going down his cheek. “Back into the trees!” We all watch, weapons in hand, as the trolls disappear into the dark place they came from. The trees shudder, swallowing them back up. I stare at the trees lining the edge of the forest. Silence. How glad I am this was not my first impression of it because I would have been too scared to go in. 

Fili puts his bow down, Bofur his sword, Dwalin his ax, and Ori his slingshot. The tingling in my arm reminds me that I’m still holding Thorin’s hand, but I don’t let go right away. I wait for him to let go first… He doesn’t.

Ori appears in front of me. I let go of Thorin’s hand.

“Thank you for saving my life.” His kindness almost brings tears to my eyes and I hug him. Dwarf custom of not, I hold Ori in my arms. I let go and return his smile.

Dwalin comes over to me, his fist placed over his heart. “You saved Thorin, lass.” He bows to me. Ori does the same. As touching as it is, I cannot accept their gratitude. I may have saved their prince, but I’m nothing heroic. I am a murderer. 

“Thank you, but please do not give me praise. I’m not proud of what I’ve done.” I look down and turn my back to the forest, away from that madness. Boots come into view and I look up into those eyes. I stand there for a moment, waiting for him to say something, waiting for myself to muster enough courage to say something. 

“To Rivendell?” Bofur interrupts. He looks at me with a smile. 

“To Rivendell,” I comply. I steal one more glance at Thorin, who’s now looking at the ground. I walk on, Bofur at my side, the rest of the dwarves behind me. I wipe the hand that was held on my pants, as if trying to wipe the feeling away. Thorin walks faster than the rest of us. He’s in the lead. Thorin Oakenshield always gets his way.


End file.
